


Intel: The Escapades of Intelligence Officers, also known as the Intel Soap Opera.

by drelfina



Series: Intel Chuunin [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-07-09
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 79,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: While the shinobi go out and do the dangerous jobs of beingshinobiand the like, there's a huge organization that keeps them alive and up-to-date with the intel they need.They are....Intel-Chuunin.





	1. Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

> This was a VERY old RP I had done with mere-triviality on LJ. 
> 
> Basically we had decided that there wasn't enough fic on the 'intelligence' and administration side of the ninja villages of Naruto, and thus picked random chuunin who Kishimoto had given names and no personalities and less than 5 minutes of screen time to flesh out. Most of the characters were either no-name little chuunin or original characters. 
> 
> This was written... more than 5 years ago, ye-gods. It's basically new to me now. 
> 
> I doubt it'd ever be complete.

Shimon smoothed his vest down, trying to quell his nervousness. There was nothing to be nervous of, honestly. Just...

 

The moderately sized building he stood outside of was unmarked and unmemorable. It wasn't large, but not small, either, yet managed to melt into the background, a dingy grey silhouette against the pre-dawn sky, sandwiched between the Training Fields Fourty-three and Thirty-eight. It was, as he would learn later, known as the four-double-three-eight entrance.

 

He hadn’t given much thought to this, when his jounin-sensei had pulled him aside after training yesterday, handing him a scroll.

“What’s this?” he had said, starting to open it.

 

“Don’t,” his sensei had said. “Open it when you get back.”

 

When he was alone in his apartment, having closed the door to make sure his nosy roommate stayed out, he broke the seal with his thumb nail, and unrolled it. It had been made of high quality parchment, he had noted absently, and he had been struck with a brief flash of fear that this was related to ANBU.

 

Only this was more puzzling.

 

There had been just these simple words, in a hand so bland and text-book correct there had been no particular character he could discern.

Report to the Administrative Information Processing Centre at 0500.

 

There had been a diagrammatic representation of the centre’s location, but even Shimon’s rather good memory hadn’t been able to dredge up a picture of it. He hadn’t been able to guess who might have sent this, but when he held up the scroll against his lamp, the faint water mark had seemed to imply Intel.

 

And now he was standing outside. Intel. Just one level below mind-twisted scary. Thinking of the word brought to mind Akagi Kaede, Head of T&I, the woman rumoured to addict her subordinates to lethal drugs to keep them from transferring out. There was a story circulating among the shinobi ranks that when Iwa-nin had been captured, Akagi Kaede broke them in less than half a minute, at most in three minutes. Shimon had heard that the fourteen second breakage had involved milk and a paperclip.

 

Shimon had been unable to look at milk for four days straight after hearing that.

 

He took a deep breath. Well, it wasn’t as if he’d been summoned by ANBU, right? That was quite literally a death sentence.

 

As he pushed open the door, he couldn’t help but wonder whether this was a fate worse then death.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

The interior of the Centre was bland and vaguely civilian, grey and boring. If he looked closely enough, it wasn’t so much grey as ingrained dirt and neglect. The air inside was disappointingly stale, possessing a canned quality that seemed to imply stagnation. Shimon wondered why anyone would want to breathe such air. Though, if he remembered right, Training Field Forty-three was commonly used for poison traps and their ilk. So perhaps that was why.

 

Several paces from the door was a large, granite-grey desk, manned by a rather attractive young woman. She looked up as Shimon approached, smile sweet, demure and utterly meaningless.

 

“Do you require assisstance, shinobi-san?” she inquired politely.

 

“I was told to report at 0500 hours,” he said, returning her smile with the exact amount of civility. He glanced to the clock hanging above her. “I am five minutes early.”

 

“May I see the order then, shinobi-san?”

 

Shimon held out the scroll. She glanced at it, and exchanged it for a sheet. “Please sign the confidentiality form, Hijiri-san.”

 

When he cocked his head at her, bangs tilting away from his eye, she smiled prettily at him, holding out the brush and ink-pad.

 

Obviously they had been expecting him. How could he expect less? He leaned over the form, gaze flicking over the printed words.

 

The release of information in any form or manner, outside of the prescribed limits of the various departments, could and would result in instant confiscation of property, freezing of bank accounts, demotion and arrest. And this was merely the visitors’ form, all four dense pages of it. How… interesting.

 

Well. He was curious now. Very curious. He signed his name with an elegant flourish, on the spaces as indicated and the receptionist took the sheets back from him, and handed him a small piece of card.

 

“Please go this way, Hijiri-san,” she said, indicating a small nondescript door just to her left. “Slot the card key into the elevator, and it will take you to the floor you need to go to. Please enjoy your stay with us.”

 

As if he had a choice in coming here. He returned her smile with a bland one of his own, and opened the door to a long narrow corridor, lined with identical, unmarked doors. At the very end, a somewhat grotty elevator stood open. It didn’t even look of a high enough technology to accept a card-key, Shimon thought witheringly, as he strode across the hall, combing his hair back from his face with his fingers.

 

He looked his best, he knew, tilting his head back just a little so his hair slid back to frame rather than shield his face. When one was faced with the prospect of meeting the notorious Akagi Kaede face-to-face, one didn’t skimp on the preparations. He had to look and feel confident, or else she would eat him alive. He exhaled, stepped into the elevator and pushed the card into the thin slot below the buttons.

 

For thirty-two seconds – Shimon counted – nothing happened. He was about to shrug and press a button – hee, top floor! – when the doors suddenly slid closed, so smoothly that Shimon jumped because of the lack of the sound.

 

“Well,” Shimon murmured. “That was unexpected…” And then he waited.

The elevator did not move.

 

He started counting in his head. When he reached a hundred and thirty-one, he was nearly ready to break out of the lift with sheer force – the metal might take a bit of work, but there was an escape panel at the top – when it dinged, and the doors slid open.

He blinked.

 

The room it opened into was not at all similar to the corridor he’d entered through. This was… not white, but with just enough of a colour to hint at green, perhaps, or maybe blue. Where the walls met the floor, there were thin silvery strips, and the floor was a pale, even expanse of some sort of stone, seamlessly laid. It looked sharp, clean, this small room of seven paces in all four directions.

 

Three paces away, and just to the left, was a bland faced shinobi, in a standard issue vest. Chuunin, he thought, from the colour.

 

“Welcome, Hijiri-san. Would you please step this way?” The chuunin gestured to a wall as Shimon stepped up beside him. Only because Shimon’s attention was drawn to it, he could actually discern a faint outline in the wall. The chuunin pressed a hand to where the doorknob would have been, and it slid aside to reveal a large lecture theatre.

 

A sharp-faced woman stood at the dais, dark eyes regarding him with a glittering sort of energy. “We’ve been waiting for you, Hijiri Shimon. Take a seat, and we may begin.”

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

Tonbo hated not knowing things. While a lot of things irritated him, surprisingly few really got under his skin, and not being in the loop was one of those.

Knowing this, Ibiki had so very kindly decided to neglect telling him why he was being sent to some random little office building downtown.   
Another thing he hated was getting up early. Especially since Ibiki--bastard son of his mother's left nostril and a diseased squirrel that he was--had designated the previous day Make Tonbo Train Until He Collapses Day.

...Bastard.

It took a moment of undignified groping and poking at the wall with his cane to find the door, and he was glad it was early enough there weren't any people around. Even though it was so he didn't run into the wall, thus further humiliating himself, he still felt like an idiot.

Another thing he hated was filling out forms. He'd hated that even when he could read the damn things.

Though this one was...odd. The ink had to have been laced with chakra or something, because he could actually read it. If he concentrated.

After a page and a half, a headache was beginning to form behind his eyes, and he paused to quietly curse Ibiki and all those in his family line, right back to his ancestral PIGEON. Stupid bastard.

Signing the forms was rather difficult. He did it slowly in order to not make himself look like a complete fool, but he was sure his signature was nigh unreadable.

It was Ibiki's fault. Somehow.

Then he was shown down the corridor to an elevator, which, once he'd pressed the necessary buttons, didn't seem to move. Presumably it did, though, since he ended up being let out into an entirely different corridor. The floor sounded like stone. Experimentally, he squatted down and rapped his knuckles against it.

Yeah. Stone. The wall was, too, he discovered. Well.

After a few moments of walking along the corridor, listening to the echoes of his cane tapping against the stone floor--and it was still odd to hear that third beat to his footsteps--he came to a room. It was large, judging by the number of people in it.

He scanned the room, looking for someone he knew, and zeroed in on Hijiri Shimon, a friend from the Academy.

"Hey," he greeted, sitting down next to him.

 

Shimon had thought that they were going to start once he came in. But instead, the woman had cocked her head, and tapped a hand on the lectern, not yet deigning to start.

Then the door opened again, and a rather odd looking personage came in. Shimon squinted - faintly, mind you - at him. He looked familiar.

"Welcome, Tobitake Tonbo," the woman said, "Take a seat. You are the last of the recruits."

Oh. Tonbo. That rather touchy boy, a year older than Shimon was, he had met in the Academy in Advanced Weaponry. He seemed quite a bit thinner than he remembered and his red hair was shaggier over his collar. He still had that semi-permanent sneer on his mouth, though.

"Whatever had happened to you?" he murmured in response to Tonbo's greeting.

There were a couple of ways Tonbo could take that.

He could assume that Shimon was merely asking why he had, for all intents and purposes, dropped off the face of the planet for roughly a year. They'd been fairly good acquaintances before, if not quite friends, so it made sense that he would ask about where Tonbo had been.

Or he could decide that Shimon was referring to the cane, and the careful way he walked, and the fact that he very nearly tripped over his own feet trying to sit down.

He was tempted to go with the second one and say something scathing, but it was a bit too early.

"Nothing much," he replied, trying not to sound too very irritated. "Whyever do you ask?"

 

Shimon waved his hand vaguely as the woman instructed several personages to hand out several sheets. "Because you look a trifle indisposed," he said. Well, not precisely indisposed. More like, run over by several landslides, pulled out and wrung out with severe and uncaring hands. "Actually, you look rather like you met a personal landslide. However, other than that, you have dropped off the face of the earth."

Shimon noted that everyone had been handed a personal sheet. Recruits, he wondered. Why recruits? For Intel? Him? Working on interrogating prisoners? That sounded too much like one of those trite horror-and-suspence novels.

"Oh, no, I've been fine. I just decided to take a nice vacation in the hospital. It was lovely. You should try it sometime," Tonbo said as he examined the sheet. Chakra-laced ink again, which was very convenient. Of course, it meant he couldn't bitch about all the paperwork, but that was a small price to pay.

 

Shimon raised an eyebrow at that. He knew Tonbo was a prickly piece of work, but to respond in such a manner to his inquiry of health? The man had no grasp on common social niceties.

His response was pre-empted by the woman's strong voice.

"Alright, everyone," she said, voice ringing out around the amphitheatre. She smiled, an almost lupine, predatory expression, as she drew everyone’s attention.

"I'm here to welcome and congratulate you on your recruitment to Intel." She surveyed them, eyes not precisely welcoming. "My name is Akagi Kaede."

It wasn't surprising that a gasp swept the room. Her smile deepened. "Consider this an orientation of sorts. You may of course wish to leave." Her voice went scornful "I heartily encourage you all to leave, in fact, since that would let me get back to my work. Intel needs people with guts and brains, and I see little evidence of it from you."

 

So that was the infamous Akagi Kaede. Tonbo'd always thought she'd be a bit more...imposing.

Although there was something about the way she spoke...a sort of steel buried beneath the gentler exterior. Her words weren't cutting, not yet, but it was clear that she could, in fact, flay back the corners of their minds and leave them shaking, gibbering wrecks if she so chose.

Though that could have been her reputation speaking, too.

He shifted just slightly, sitting up a bit more and listening more closely. This should be interesting.

 

Shimon scanned through his hand out. "Excuse me? I am assigned to Forgery?" That was utterly demeaning. He was one of the most intelligent in his year, and honestly? Intel was hardly a place for someone to shine.

 

Kaede turned her head to him. Ah, there was always a pompous little peacock in every batch. In fact, this year's one had looks to go with it.   
"Did you want a choice, Shimon-kun?" she inquired sweetly, choosing to use his given name on purpose, making his pale cheeks start to flush at the implied insult. "Then here are your choices. You may quit, now, and be assigned to the frontlines. Take gruelling after gruelling mission that requires just your muscles and nothing of your brain whatsoever. Or you may stay in the department you are assigned."

 

Shimon blinked at her words. That sounded... vicious. "I was just..."

 

"Protesting on behalf of your friend, perhaps?" she asked. "Tonbo-kun was recommended to T&I--" she paused for dramatic effect--"by a trusted subordinate. Though looking at him I now doubt his eyesight. All of you were recruited for something that others think they saw. What I see are the glazed looks of stunned goldfish. Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen, you have succeeded in surpassing the vapidity of last year's batch. My fellow department heads thought it impossible." 

 

Recommended...? Well.

 

That would have to be Ibiki, then. No one else had been around him enough to really recommend him, except possibly his family, and none of them were in Intel.

 

He tried not to sulk too very obviously at the eyesight comment. There was a chance she was talking about Ibiki's judgement. Tonbo knew he didn't exactly look like he was in peak physical condition. It was early and he hadn't even gotten to snipe at anyone, though, so he decided to abandon reasonableness and sulk.

 

Inwardly, of course. If he was going to be a vapid goldfish, he didn't want to be a CHILDISH one.

 

Kaede smiled as the pretty-boy shut up. Cossetted, the lot of them.

 

"I suppose all of you have read your hand-outs by now. Notice how they're all personalised." She paused, leaning slightly against the lectern. "That is because this is what Intel does."

 

She grinned suddenly. "We know who you all are. Hijiri Shimon, sixteen, a little peacock, good with weaponry, caught trying to forge your teacher's signature when you were eight." She smirked at Shimon's dumb-founded look, and cast her gaze around the room.

 

"Sasaki Yoshi. Pesky little voyuer, aren't you? Been spying on your sensei, five times, to be precies thought you weren't caught." As the young man she'd pierced with her dark gaze withered faintly, she smiled at the room. "We know you all. This is what Intel does. Consider this your welcome speech."

Tonbo radiated smugness at Shimon, smirking and snickering.

Very quietly, though. He certainly didn't want the woman singling HIM out next. He had no desire for any of his dirty laundry to be aired to all these people.

Shimon scowled - he wasn't sulking, precisely - mortified. that she knew...

 

He let his fan slip out of his sleeve and smack Tonbo on his insufferably smug knee.

 

"Now, all of you puling little brats get to meet the Head of Intel," Kaede continued, apparently oblivious to Shimon's little vindictive action. "Get your acts together, and act like the people we recruited. Or not, as the case may be. I will enjoy seeing you all down in my ... rooms." she smirked, turning as the door opened. 

 

Tonbo shifted slightly, smacking his cane into Shimon's shin. Completely by accident, of course.

 

Before he could every so sweetly apologize for the completely accidental pain he'd inflicted on Shimon, the next speaker, a rail-thin, colourlessly bland man of perhaps forty, came up to the lectern.

 

"I am Suzuki Hideyoshi, and, as Kaede-san said, the head of Intel. Before we begin, I'd like to take the time to say this: If you want to leave, do it now. You don't leave Intel unless you are given a discharge, due to the nature of the information we handle. So if you think you can't handle it, don't stay." He paused, allowing anyone who so chose to leave. "Right. Most of you, when you think of Intel, just think of T&I. That is not anything near the whole of the organization, however. It consists of three main departments--Records, Finance, and Information Extraction--and nearly twenty sub-departments. Obviously, the duties you carry out will be based on which department you're in.

 

"This is just a general orientation. You'll be divided up later based on which department you're in and given a more thorough introduction then by the heads of your respective departments. Before that, there are a few general things you need to know." He held up one finger.

 

"We know all of you. Each and every single one of you has a file, and of course it's updated constantly. Do NOT think that you can get anything past us. Don't even try, either. If you DO try, you had better hope to whatever god you may believe in you don't get caught, or you'll be meeting with our T&I department." A second finger joined the first.

 

"Second, you will be handling very classified information. There are different levels of clearance, and it is vitally important that you know and respect those boundaries. Anyone giving information to someone not meant to know it will be severely punished. This includes family and friends outside of Intel, and operatives within the organization who are lower clearance than you are." He raised a third finger.

 

"Finally, you're all here because you were recommended or someone noticed you had a talent we could use. That doesn't mean that you get a free pass, though. You have to prove that you deserve to be here. Slacking off will not be permitted, and if you cannot prove your worth, you will be let go. Understand?"

 

He paused again, waiting for his words to sink in, and then went on, "And now we'll have a small break before you are sent to meet the department heads. Anyone who wants to leave, now is your last chance to do so."  
Shimon utterly detested Tonbo. utterly, totally and thoroughly. He was about to give him a very good demonstration of what a fan could hide - because that had hurt - until the head of Intel spoke.

He hadn't known that there was a Head of Intel. Well, he knew that there was one, only he hadn't realised...

His words caused him to shiver slightly. That intelligence was important was obvious. That they would go to such lengths? He recalled the confidentiality forms he'd signed, and the fact that Akagi Kaede could name him, seemingly at random, and spell out selected parts of his past...

The tall, thin, effacing speaker smiled thinly at them, and left, a signal for the other personnel to bring in... well. Food. Finger-foods and drinks, but no one seemed very inclined to leave their seats to eat.

But at least they were left alone. To mingle.

To exact revenge on the uncouth idiot who hit him. "I suppose you will be leaving then, Tonbo-kun?" Shimon said, standing up with as much grace as he could muster, intent on appearing unaffected by anything Kaede or Hideyoshi had said. "I confess to be rather upset at seeing you again after so many years."

 

"I know you want me to come with you, Shimon-kun, but I'm afraid I'm staying. So sorry." Tonbo considered standing up as well, just because he really didn't like Shimon standing over him like that, but then decided he didn't really feel like it. "You aren't? How very tragic. My heart bleeds."  
Shimon didn't snarl, though a lesser man might have. He smiled quite sweetly instead. "Oh, no." He tapped his fan against his other wrist, almost languidly. "I was recruited for my mind, it seems. I suspect that you were recruited as a subject to Kaede-san's experiments." He cast a look to the fingerfoods. The other recruits were talking amongst themselves.

In fact, Shimon wouldn't have been surprised if they thought it was poisoned. If so, all the better to feed it to Tonbo.

"Shall I go get us something to eat, Tonbo-kun?" He inquired solicitously. "I can see that you are... incapicitated. Handica--" he pressed his fan to his mouth, as if stopping himself. "I mean, functionally deficient."

 

Tonbo did snarl, lips curling as he surged to his feet. He reached out and grabbed Shimon's shirt, yanking him so close their noses nearly touched.

 

"Say that again, you fatherless son of a diseased WHORE," he growled. "I will break your goddamned pretty face."

 

From what he remembered, Shimon had always been...Akagi-san had put it nicely when she'd called him a peacock. Pretty and proud and prone to strutting. At that moment, Tonbo wanted nothing more than to slice his face off.

 

Fucking BASTARD.  
Shimon barely had time to breathe before he was suddenly yanked close to Tonbo's face, blinking and then his face darkened, just a little.

He grabbed Tonbo's wrists, and twisted, squeezing and pulling him off balance, placing his feet apart, yet close enough to Tonbo's to trip him if he needed to. "You know very well who my father is," he said, voice misleadingly mild. "While I sadly do not know yours. You won't manage to touch my face," his voice took on a slight sneer, "for all you might hope for it. I'd have to help you find it, wouldn't I?"

 

Tonbo tore one hand from Shimon's grasp and punched him as hard as he could in the side of the face.

 

"Break your face," he growled again. "Though I suppose I shouldn't, because then you'd be ugly AND stupid, and what good are you then?" He hit Shimon again, this time digging his bony knuckles hard into the other teen's ribs and twisting.  
Shimon cried out, pain blinding across his face.

There was a shift in the people around them, and they looked like they might stop Tonbo. But Shimon's pride couldn't take that. Bad enough that he was being beaten upon, worse still that someone had to help him.

He swallowed down the pain, feeling more than hearing his ribs creak, and stomped hard on Tonbo's foot, swinging the other teen's weight agianst him, and throwing him over his hip. At the same time, he pulled his whip from his belt, and snagged Tonbo's cane with it.

"You only wish you could," Shimon said, trying not to slur his words. "I don't need my looks to get recommended here."

And then with a surge of chakra, Tonbo's cane splintered.

 

Tonbo stumbled, overbalancing as the support of the cane was suddenly pulled out from under him. Growling curses, he reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair and a fistful of shirt, yanking hard to pull himself up.

 

"I don't see anything ELSE it could be. You're just a spoiled fucking pansy-boy." Tonbo slammed his free knee up into Shimon's stomach. "But, of course, you can mouth off to whoever you want, can't you? You're a goddamn special SNOWFLAKE, aren't you? And, oh, my, so very much better than the CRIPPLE, which gives you every fucking right in the world to SAY that, doesn't it?"  
For a scrawny person like Tonbo, he was unexpectedly flexible, pulling at him and overbalancing them both.

It hurt that much more to have the other teen's knee slam into his gut, driving out his air from the force of both Tonbo's shove and Shimon's own weight.

He gasped, trying not to mewl at the pain.

And he was grabbing his hair.

"You - of course 'm better," he managed, trying not to choke or whine. At least he still had several senbon in his other sleeve, which he let slip out at Tonbo's throat. "Do not project your own insecurities at me," he murmured. "Now let go of my hair."

Tonbo momentarily considered trying to grab a senbon from Shimon and stab him in the eyes with it, but discarded that plan almost immediately. It'd still leave Shimon with weapons, and he'd probably get his throat lacerated before he could do anything.

 

He let go, giving Shimon's hair one last vengeful yank before removing his hand completely, and then pried the other's boy's hand away from his neck, leaning in to bite his wrist when he could.

Shimon couldn't help the cry at this point, that he dared defile his hair, and then he was biting into his wrist! Shimon yanked away, staggering up and leaning down to pick up his whip - he was going to flay the utter scoundrel alive...

That is, he would have, only to be yanked upright, wrists imprisoned by stronger fingers.

Shimon pulled at his wrists. "Let go."

Iwana tightened his grip. "No. Quit."

 

Tonbo propped himself up on his elbows, snarling, growling at this bastard who'd dared to step in. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Stopping an unseemly fight." The man stepped back, perforce making Shimon do the same. "Only crude brawlers or the immature think to settle things with their fists."

He paused, and shimon's eyes narrowed when he felt thumbs stroke the insides of his wrists, but before he could say anything, the man had stepped back, releasing his hold on SHimon.

"You are gathered here because of intellect and talent, not because you are the best fighters, or the best looking."

Shimon had the grace to look slightly chastened.

 

Tonbo shifted, rising into a crouch and resting one hand on the chair beside him, trying not to lean against it too noticeably. He skimmed his fingers over the floor, frowning slightly. "Where's my cane?"

 

Which he'd really rather not need, only he'd just worn himself out hugely and was a bit too shaky to stand without it.

 

Fucking bastard.  
"Snapped," Shimon said negligently, finger-combing his hair back into place. His uniform was messed, and he set about getting himself tidy again. He shot dark looks at anyone who looked at them, and picked his whip back up, coiling it around his wrist. Which bore Tonbo's teethmarks. The man was not to be borne.

 

It was only the fact that the man who'd pulled Shimon away was still standing close by that kept Tonbo from going for the bastard's throat again.

 

"...Snapped," he repeated, incredulous. And then he remembered, that burst of chakra, the splintering noise, the way he'd fallen... "You snapped my cane. You...I am going to KILL you. I'm going to break your LEGS off. I'm going to rip out your INTESTINES and CHOKE YOU with them!"

"You may try." Shimon's voice was all but dripping with disinterest and detachment. The man, he decided, was beneath his notice. Who knew his motivations? He wasn't interested. Tonbo was probably jealous. "I doubt you would succeed."

 

Tonbo managed to slide into a chair and tilted his head back, glaring in the general direction of Shimon's voice. Fuck. He'd just exhausted himself with that fight, and all the READING he'd been doing required so much chakra-focusing... He dropped the sensing completely, letting the world go completely black. He didn't need it right then, and he knew he would later.

 

Fucking Shimon.

 

"I think you're underestimating how much I hate you."  
Shimon tossed his head, pointedly turning his back on Tonbo, content that now he wasn't in disarray. The other recruits were still watching their drama - though in the ruckus several had voluntarily left.

"I underestimate the utter scorn I feel for you," Shimon said simply. "You have not changed from your Academy days, Ton- kun."

 

Tonbo gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to hurt Shimon. God, did the bastard deserve it, though. "Neither have you. Well, wait. That's a lie. You're even more of a pompous ass than you used to be. I didn't think it was possible."

"Indeed, if you must think it so." Shimon started to walk away to the food section. "Do partake of some breakfast, Ton darling, we do have a long day ahead."

 

There was a very brief moment of internal debate, during which the part of Tonbo that didn't want to make any more of a scene tried to calm down the significantly larger part of him that wanted to brain Shimon with a chair.

 

The larger part won out, though, and he jumped up again, stumbling over to Shimon and punching him in the ribs again. General rib area, anyway. It actually felt more like his stomach.

 

"And if you call me that again, I guarantee you won't live to see any of it."

Shimon kneed him quite ably in the groin, because THAT had to equal all the hurt and humiliation he'd suffered.

"If you touch me again," he managed not to wheeze, "you would wish your ancestors had never met, Ton darling."

 

Biting back a very undignified squeak, Tonbo collapsed against Shimon. "Fucking...hate...you."

Shimon managed a little noise of surprise before he too collapsed under Tonbo's weight. "You don't even DESERVE hate," he told him.

The chuunin who'd pulled them apart did not snigger, a byproduct of his training. The two of them looked so cute there, whispering to each other.

"Please finish eating," he said to the room in general, "because you will soon be assigned to departments."

 

Tonbo attempted to look as dignified as he possible could while being physically unable to stand up. "Pansy-boy. Go get me something to eat, would you? I would, only I'm too...what was it you said? Functionally deficient?"

Shimon had gone as still as possible under him, utterly and thoroughly aware of how they looked, considering the sniggers from their fellow recruits. "I would, if you would deign to get off," Shimon said. "I would even lace it with cynanide for your taste."

 

Tonbo momentarily considered writhing a bit, and maybe moaning or something, but then decided destroying Shimon's dignity wasn't worth his own. He managed to shift off of him, wincing slightly at the stab of pain from his groin. "Why, thank you. I love cyanide. You're so kind."

Shimon sat up, wincing at the pain in his gut and side, but forced himself to toss his hair back and trying to look unruffled. He would find time later to curl up in abject pain.

"You're welcome," he said with as much frigidity as he could muster, and swept to the table of food.

He decided to pick the most horrible looking thing to give to Tonbo, snagging a chocolate bar for himself. He soon saw why so many of the rookies were avoiding the table, and actually looking green.

There were... things that looked like eel innards. Fish guts. And unhatched duck embryos.

Shimon forced down his own bile, suddenly not at all hungry and took a plate of duck embryo and eel guts to the other boy on the floor.

"Here," he said sweetly. "Balut and eel stuff."

"Sounds delicious. Thank you." Tonbo took the plate and began eating with apparent relish.

Shimon looked green. Everyone looked green.

Iwana smirked. Tonbo was most definitely a good addition to T&I. Ibiki had good perception and judgement.

Tonbo smiled at Shimon, offering the plate to him. "You should try it. You need to eat. After all, like you said, we're going to have a long day."

Shimon's face turned paler. "I have eaten already," Shimon said. "You may finish it."

Tonbo shrugged. "Your loss."

Shimon swallowed hard as the other boy calmly polished off the duck embryos.

"Alright, everyone, please return to your seats, break is over and we will be dividing you into your seperate departments," Iwana announced.

It looked like Kaede's plan to discomfit the rookies had worked.


	2. Orientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching rookies was, in Funakoshi Daiki's opinion, rather boring. They never did anything but gravitate into little clumps with their friends and looked freaked out. This time was a bit more interesting, though, because a couple of the rookies had decided to try and kill each other.

Watching rookies was, in Funakoshi Daiki's opinion, rather boring. They never did anything but gravitate into little clumps with their friends and looked freaked out. This time was a bit more interesting, though, because a couple of the rookies had decided to try and kill each other.

He flipped through the file he had. Hijiri Shimon and Tobitake Tonbo. Hm. Shimon was his, too, apparently.

"He doesn't look like he'd be very suited to T&I," he said, tapping Tonbo's file. "He really doesn't look very suited to being upright, for that matter." Of course, he wasn't mentioning how very delicate Shimon looked, or the way he appeared to be coming out worse for the wear from the fight. He wasn't going to rag on his OWN rookie.

Kaede smirked as she watched the pretty peacock get pounded into the ground. "Yours doesn't look like he's going to be much of anything. You should hope he has a mind, because otherwise he's going to be eaten alive elsewhere." She'd already memorised all the files, of course, and read the more extensive analyses on her own recruits. "Ibiki's a bit wet behind the ears, of course. But Tonbo has potential. He's not half bad. In fact..." She paused, and smiled like a cat when Tonbo started eating some of the more... interesting things. "Oh, your poor kitten looks like he's about to throw up."

Daiki hmphed. "I'm sure he has a wonderful mind. He didn't get recruited just for having a pretty face." He couldn't blame Shimon, really; watching Tonbo stuff his face with eel guts made him feel rather nauseous.

"We can only hope," Kaede said drily, "Though he'd make a wonderful addition to Forgery. He'd be so decorative."

Hideyoshi just leaned against the wall, watching. Whether he was watching the rookies or his Department Heads was up to a coin toss.

Daiki sniffed. "If we wanted decorative, we'd recruit potted plants. He's obviously got SOMETHING going for him. Other than being pretty, I mean. At least he's not gimpy, starving, and temperamental."

"Maybe he gives good head," Kaede said, making all the other department heads sputter. "Gimpy is always good. It gives someone the drive to break other people." A moment to glance back at the monitors. "Oh look. everyone looks kinda green now. I knew the balut was a good choice."

Daiki eyed Tonbo's stumbling. "I'm not sure if he could manage breaking someone. Maybe if you let him rest."

"He nearly made your peacock throw up."

"Yes, well, Forgery doesn't recruit for intestinal fortitude, either."

"No, forgery recruits for pretty handwriting. And pretty faces. And possibly stunned goldfish. Look at him. Pansy boy." Forgery may not have recruited for intestinal fortitude, but T&I certainly did. Squeamishness didn't go well with torturing.

Daiki sniffed. "At least our recruits are SANE. And don't get off on MINDFUCKING people."

"No, they just use their looks and pretty writing to blackmail people."

"Exactly. And they are well-balanced individuals who don't go about beating on people."

"Instead, they say poisonous things that result in their faces getting beaten in." She tilted her head. "Who bets they fall into bed by the third month?"

Daiki thought for a moment. "I don't think it'll take that long."

"Oh?" Kaede grinned, glancing around at the department heads. "Tonbo looks like the type who'd waffle, and it'd be hot and dirty. So. Five hundred on three months."

"I say a month and a half at most," Daiki said. Experience had taught him that betting against Kaede wasn't smart, because she ALWAYS won. Still, he always did. Call it misguided hope, perhaps.

"Hah! We'll see how good you forgers are at reading people then. Paper!" She glanced around, and someone - Finance - produced a sheet with the bet already written. She signed it, and handed it to Daiki.

Hideyoshi sighed. "Alright, the recruits are about to throw up. Go retrieve your recruits, before they mess up my floor." Interdepartmental interactions indeed.  
Daiki signed it and handed it back to her to keep track of, and then went out with the rest of the department heads to get the recruits.

Kaede brought up the rear, and surveyed the freaked out expressions of the rookies they had left.

A rough estimate of about twenty or so, more or less even split between males and females. Psych had chosen the people who WOULD stay, after all, and a nice even number of males and females meant balance.

They all looked a little... stunned, to see so many of the department heads. They didn't gather often, and it was rare that they had a large meeting that required all of the departments to convene. Rookie orientation deserved that, at least, because Intel was one of the biggest and most important organisations in Konoha. And most certainly good for taking the wind out of pompous arrogant idiots' sails.

Hideyoshi didn't need to rap at the lectern to catch the rookies' attention, and instead just sent them off to their respective departments. Of course, several of the department heads didn't have a recruit - the number of operatives they recieved every year was... well, rather low, honestly, because Intel might not be physically as demanding as, say, ANBU, but Intel had a strict and honoured policy of only recruiting the best in talent, usually for the intellectual qualities that many shinobi tended to neglect for faster, flashier jutsu.

But it was still a good thing for all the department heads to get a look at all the rookies they had, because there was always those who were suited for cross-departments, especially when it showed during the trial period.

Kaede smiled at her three rookies, two of them green to the gills and the other shaky on his feet. Well! They would toughen up soon enough. One was going to AppPhys, actually, and the other two to her department, AppPsy.

"Welcome, kids," she said, watching them pale further.

***

Shimon thought he might throw up. It was only his will that kept him from doing so. Looking so undignified and uncontrolled would be ruinous. Besides, he was a shinobi. Granted, he wasn't even a chuunin yet, but that was nothing. A shinobi had to be strong, in as many ways as one could, and most certainly squeamishness had no place on the battlefield.

Fortunately, his battle of will was solved by the entrance of all the department heads.

There were.... a lot. By a head count? Maybe twenty, perhaps more. They were all regarding them like... meat? Or like little flies. ANBU seemed like a much better option all of a sudden.

Then a dark, compact, solid man came forward. "Forgery, Hijiri Shimon."

Shimon swallowed, and walked up to meet him. Only one recruit per department? Well. Seeing that only roughly twenty recruits - twenty-three, really - remained, and there were twenty departmental heads... perhaps they were all out in force just to intimidate them all.

"Good morning, sir," Shimon managed, trying not to feel like all of five. While the... man - his head of department? Boss? Superior - was not that tall himself, he was at least half a foot taller than Shimon. And while he appeared to have a mild temperament, he looked like he could be just as bad as Kaede. Only Kaede at LEAST looked the part of a crazy T&I operative.

***

Tonbo intended to spend as much time as he could sitting. Or leaning against a wall. Or just generally not standing unsupported, because he honestly wasn't so sure he could. It hadn't even been a full year since he'd been unable to stand up at all, and, even though he'd never admit it, the cane wasn't just because he couldn't see.

Damn Shimon.

As Kaede-san came up, he attempted to look nonchalant rather than gimpy. It was more or less working, and then they had to walk. It took him a brief moment to reactivate the chakra-sensing, which he did still leaning against the wall because it always made him dizzy. He tried not to look too very hesitant as he stepped away, because that would make a very bad impression. Akagi Kaede was not someone you wanted to look weak in front of.

Luckily, he could stand. More or less. Almost with no swaying, even! And minimal wobbling.

Damn, damn, DAMN Shimon.

***

Daiki took the time to look Shimon over thoroughly now that he could see him close up.

Hopefully there was an able brain in that well-groomed head. He wouldn't have been recruited if there WASN'T, but right then, it wasn't showing very well. He looked more scared than anything, really. And nauseous, but, then again, so did everyone else.

"Good morning." He held out a hand. "I'm Funakoshi Daiki."

So far, Shimon hadn't proven himself to be much of anything special. Daiki intended to see that that changed.

***

Kaede paused a moment. As much as it amused her to watch Tonbo stumble along like a drunk with no legs, it really wasn't very much in the way of progress. "Oy, Daiki," she called out. "Get your rookie do do something useful, and improvise something for Ton-kun here."

Shimon had gingerly taken his superior's hand, trying not to appear too weak stomached, when Kaede's voice startled him.

Improvise... what? For Tonbo? No way in the fourteen levels of Hell. Tonbo could stumble straight down a pit of lava for all he cared.

Daiki gestured towards the tables. "Break off a table leg for him."

Tonbo very nearly protested. He didn't need any HELP, dammit, and especially not from SHIMON. But he'd really rather not end up collapsing. That would not go very far towards impressing Kaede-san.

Damn Shimon.

"But..." Shimon started to protest. Not for Tonbo. He deserved to collapse across the hallway like a jellyfish. But he was a gentleman, and an honourable person, so he went over to the table and snapped off a table leg with his whip. He even kindly whittled down the raw edges for Tonbo, though he hoped there were splinters.

Kaede just smiled. "Say thank you, Tonbo. Both of you really ought to kiss and make up."

Tonbo very nearly spluttered. He also contemplated thanking Shimon by smacking him with the table leg, but decided against it. That probably wouldn't go so well. "Thank you," he said coolly, trying very hard to keep from growling. Hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with Shimon anymore after this. Bastard

"You're welcome," Shimon said, then smiled ever so sweetly, "Ton-darling." Then he was heading back to Daiki-san before Tonbo could do something stupid

Tonbo throttled the makeshift cane for a moment before forcing himself to calm down. Stupid, stupid bastard.

"Well then," Kaede said cheerfully. "Let's get a move on, shall we? I LOVE to show off my dungeons."

Dungeons were nice. He could imagine using all the nice torture instruments on Shimon, which was very relaxing.

Stupid bastard.

***

Shimon went back to his superior's side. "Daiki-san?"

Daiki looked rather amused. "I can see you've made a friend."

"He is not a friend," Shimon said simply. "Just someone I wouldn't waste time or effort over. Daiki-san, so where do we go now?"

Daiki led Shimon through the corridors to the series of offices that made up the Forgery department."A lot of this is supply rooms. Forging isn't just about mimicking handwriting, after all. You also have to get the texture of the documents, the color, the weight... So we need a large collection of samples and supplies."

"I see. Chakra seals, fingerprints as well? Water seals and that sort of thing?" Shimon asked. "What sort of... training would I be undergoing?"

Daiki nodded. So he DID have a brain, then. Not many other rookies thought of other things so quickly."Yes. Like that. Training would mainly be practice. Replicating the samples we have, that sort of thing."

"Alright," Shimon said, feeling the tips of his fan against the bottom of his palm. Just rooms and rooms of supplies. "Pictures and photographic black mail, too? or would that be too highlevel for one of my low clearance to handle?"

"Too high-level. That sort of thing takes more skill than a rookie has."   
Shimon nodded, and clasped his hands behind his back. "So what sort of things am I going to be doing?" he asked. Forgery. Forgery... this sounded so boring, if he had to start out as a rookie. He might as well go back to training with swords. He really liked that pair of butterfly swords he saw in the weaponry shops... Sadly, he hadn't earned enough to buy them yet, not on a genin salary of D-ranked missions.   
"You'll start off with replicating handwriting, and then move on to documents. Photographic forgery comes much later. It's much harder because you don't necessarily always have a sample, like you do with handwriting or documents." He wondered if Shimon would have any particular talent for photographic forgery. He hoped so; they didn't have too many people who were very good at it. Not nearly as many as there were doing documents, anyway.

If he didn't demonstrate much of a talent, though, they wouldn't waste too much time teaching it to him. Forcing something on someone who couldn't do it didn't do anything useful, and Intel didn't waste talent.

"I can do handwriting already," Shimon said. He didn't want to start out at the basics. He was already fairly good. While he had been caught forging when he was eight, that had been years ago. He hadn't been caught since.   
"If you can already do it a professional level, then we'll let you skip ahead," Daiki said graciously. "I rather doubt that, though."

Shimon just shrugged carefully. "What next, then?" He paused then added, belatedly, "Sir."  
"Next...hm." Daiki thought for a moment. "Next, we're going to be assigning you housing."  
"Housing?" Shimon tried not to look too incredulous. "I live with my father. I don't need housing." And his books, and his calligraphy, and paper supplies... and everything! That was why he hadn't wanted to move into the apartments they had for shinobi. All his things were at home.

Daiki smiled slightly, amused. "All Intel agents are assigned seperate housing. It's partly to lower security risks."  
"Partly to lower security risks? What is the other reason?"  
"To test your people skills."  
"Why do you need to do that?" Shimon asked, as Daiki started walking down the corridor. Shimon had to lengthen his strides to keep up. The way Daiki walked was at a fast, even, deceptive clip, a ground-devouring walk without looking like there was any exertion at all. It implied that even as the head of an Intel department, Daiki still was in the intensive training that shinobi maintained.

It was almost surprising.

He was whiny as well as clever. "Intel operatives need to be able to deal with people well. Especially people they don't know and may not get along with."  
"Woudln't that be learned already? What with having to work with them in the first place?"

"Oddly enough, we've found that most people seem completely unable to cooperate with someone they dislike, despite apparently already having learned these skills."  
Shimon glanced at him, and glanced back down again. Daiki was being sarcastic, he'd guess. And that was not good.  
Daiki led him into the room. "Go take a seat. I have to leave you at this point. I've got work to do. Be good and play nice with the other kids."  
***

Kaede smirked at her rookies, and dragged them down to her dungeons, without bothering to keep it slow for Tonbo. Knowing him, he'd keep up as much as possible until he fell over. So cute, to be so angry.

"Right brats," she said, glancing over to her AppPhys head. "I'm head of Applied Psychology as well as head of T&I, and this here is head of Applied Physiology. Megumi-chan, you're in AppPhys, but everyone else gets the same basic training before specialisation. Right. So let's take a look at the interrogation rooms, shall we?"

Everyone had heard so many myths about the T&I dungeons. It was interesting to finally be able to see the real thing. "Applied Psychology?" Tonbo asked, raising an eyebrow. "Would that happen to be a ncie way of saying 'mindfuckery', by any chance?"

"Clever boy," Kaede cooed. "Mindfuckery. Try and figure out what Applied Physiology is, mm?" She gestured grandly to the interrogation rooms. "Physical interrogation would take place elsewhere, this is just the first level of break down. Level one. Then the next level."

"That'd be physical torture, of course." Who came UP with those names? It did a nice job of not sounding too very frightening, though, bizarre as they were.

Different levels...? That'd probably be for different types of people. It wouldn't take nearly as much to break a civilian as a shinobi, and levels would make it easier to tell which you were doing before you went in.

"Such a clever boy," Kaede grinned, and started off through yet another set of rooms. They all looked the same, but she wouldn't be surprised if Tonbo could detect the slightest raise in chakra level in some of them. Of course, those were the rookie rooms. Th main ones the professionals used would be so dampened it'd seem like a normal room. "Tell me what you rookies think of this." She gestured to an empty room.   
Tonbo particularly disliked rooms nobody had been in recently. Touching things left trace amounts of chakra, and he could usually pick up on the stronger ones, which let him know where the walls were. But this one didn't feel like an empty room. There weren't any particular places, exactly, where the chakra levels were higher; the whole room was just the tiniest bit less untouched-feeling than the hallway.

Smooth, even, and constant. What could that be? "It feels like there's a jutsu in place," he told Kaede-san.

The other rookies blinked, and both looked sheepish at not having figuring it out. "Yeah," said the girl. "'s a jutsu ain't it?"

Kaede mentally upped the notch of respect for Ibiki's recruit. While she had expected him to get it first, she hadn't expected him to get it so quickly. He was either talented, or that chakra-sensing thing that Ibiki had been pounding into him was really sensitive. "Very good," she purred. "Now, tell me what sort, mm?"

Tonbo frowned slightly. Damn. He couldn't figure out what KIND of jutsu it was. Not without activating it, anyway, which he didn't know how to do for this one in any case.

The other boy thought for a moment, trying to feel for the chakra in the room. "...Genjutsu?" he hazarded.

"Very good," Kaede's tone warmed, slightly less ironic than it had been earlier. "A genjutsu. Interrogation with applied psychology means that we work mainly with the mind. With applied physiology, the body is the main canvas. Both have overlaps, but a different focus. Right now? This is a training room for basic AppPsy. Basic AppPhys is along another corridor. Tell me how many genjutsus, and what."

The other boy frowned, screwing up his nose and his green eyes, squinting as he concentrated. This was obviously a mannerism that he'd be trained out of. Everyone in T&I only showed emotions WHEN they wished, not automatically. This was what made the T&I section very feared indeed.

"Uuuh. I think there's... one," he said timidly, trying not to flinch at the barely suppressed scowl Tonbo was sending at him. Or the wall behind him, rather. "There's... forest. Teeth. Fur. I think."

It was hard for Tonbo to keep his irritation from showing too much. He hated being wrong and not knowing things, especially when other people did. It was one of many things that made him want to smack people. He contented himself with radiating vague unhappiness and trying to figure out how the other boy could TELL.

The boy shivered at the radiated hate in his direction.

Well, well, well. Obviously Kaede didn't think Tonbo would need much training in aura projection. Probably what would be needed would be control and manipulation.

"Very good." Really, she seemed to be handing out the praises today. The rookies wouldn't know it, but she was only nice on orientation day. "Wolves. A common fear for those who have heard of the hunting dog-wolves of Grass, or met up with some of the animals from the training area Forty-four. Right, I see I have a real talented bunch this year. Now how would one of you use it?"

The answer seemed fairly obvious. It'd be used to mess with people's minds. Obviously. That was what the whole thing was about. Unless she was asking for specifics? Tonbo didn't think there was another purpose he wasn't thinking of. Then again, genjutsu hadn't ever been his specialty.

"Anyone?"

All three of her rookies looked dumbly back at her. Well, two, and Tonbo was sort of staring off into the distance. "Right. When the training is at its end you will know how to use each and every one of these rooms, and several more besides. Now, off to the next step of Orientation. Follow my nice Department Head of AppPhys, Nanashi, boys and girl. Shoo. I have work to do."

They were handed over to yet another person, presumably to continue on with the tour through the dungeons.

Finally, the 'dungeons' were extensive. Many many levels, below, actually. Though there was only one level of real dungeon.

Tonbo hadn't ever really given much thought to the layout of the interrogation rooms. When he did think about it, though, the different levels made sense. They needed different rooms for different types of torture, of course, and already prepared rooms were much easier than having to change equipment around all the time. And not everyone T&I needed to get information from was a shinobi, of course. It would be much easier to break a civilian with no training than a ninja, so the same amount of force wasn't needed.

If he thought a little deeper, the dungeons themselves were another mindfuck. Everyone who'd heard of T&I would have heard about the terrible things that happened to people there, and if they were left, alone, in one of those rooms, with no idea what was in it or what it was used for normally or what would be done to them...

Then they were led out into another wing. Of course, it was difficult to measure the distance they went through - the other boy was muttering to himself about how strange it was to have no windows. Everything being underground, it could lend the illusion of having spent days and years here, unless one developed a good internal clock. Of course, only one of the newbies wouldn't have a problem.

Then they were led to a large room, with many desks, something like a classroom, only not... quite. There were a number of the other rookies around; they'd obviously finished their orientations earlier.

Tonbo wanted to say to the other boy that at least HE could still benefit from windows, but decided against it. Instead, he quietly, smugly didn't say a word about it. Anyway, they didn't need to know that HE couldn't. It wasn't like it was that much of a problem, anyway.

When they got to the next room, he found a chair as soon as he possibly could. Without rushing or anything, of course. He could keep standing if he WANTED to. He just felt like relaxing.

The room was filled with the sound of people breathing, and in the front were two senior operatives, who apparently were ignoring the recruits, just talking to each other, and sorting files and papers on the long large desk in front. Their uniforms were starched and grey, and ... it would take some time for the recruits to realise that everyone in this compound wore a variation of this uniform, not the usual vest and turtleneck.

Tonbo leaned back slightly, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been a long time since he'd had to use so much energy, and each jolt of pain lancing through his skull reminded him just WHY he was so careful not to overexert himself.

This was all Shimon's fault. Bastard.

"Ne, You're Tonbo?" One of the other recruits leaned over. "In T&I? You should so get a transfer. Kaede is fucking scary." He thought a while. "I'm Chokichi. Come over to Psych. They say that there's always need for more people. T&I have too many anyway."

"So far, I kind of like her." He tried very hard to keep his tone civil. Much as he felt like snapping at someone, it wasn't Chokichi's fault his head was hurting.

Damn Shimon.

Anyway, he always made a point of not being too very mean on first meetings. It tended to drive away even the people he might have liked. "I'll keep that in mind, though."

"Well, that's 'cause she wants you to stay, doesn't she?" Chokichi said. "You look like you're in pain..." He glanced up as the door opened and the short, pretty rookie walked in.

Shimon had blinked and tried to insist that he was not a child, but Daiki had left and... He sighed and walked in, frowning faintly to see Tonbo.  
"Just a headache," Tonbo responded, rubbing his temple. He very pointedly ignored Shimon's existence.

Stupid bastard.

Shimon didn't deign to look at him, just sat next to a rather slim lady with long curly hair. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, just as distantly friendly as he did.

"Do you know why they've stuck us all here?" Tonbo asked Chokichi.

Chokichi shrugged. "Dunno. Some interpersonal testing thing."

Shimon just smirked. "For housing," he purred to the girl beside him. "Daiki-san said Intel agents have seperate lodging."

Tonbo frowned slightly at what Shimon had said. Housing? He already HAD housing, and he'd very much like to stay where he WAS, thankyouverymuch.

"How strange," Chokichi said. "We already have... "

Then one of the personnel stood. "Please come forward and recieve a questionaire," she said, smiling faintly at them all. She didn't offer any explanations.

Shimon frowned at the paper. Such trivial questions. He filled them out anyway. At least it was fairly short, unlike the forms he'd had to fill out earlier.

Chakra-laced ink again. That would be convenient if it didn't require so much damn concentration. Tonbo swore under his breath and tried to ignore the agony stabbing through his skull. Damn words kept going all fuzzy, too.

"Ya need help?" Chokichi leaned over, concerned. "You look kinda sick."

Tonbo bit back the growl. "No. I'm fine.

"If you're sure," Chokichi said, filling out his own form rapidly. He shoved a hand through his short hair, smiling at Tonbo. "Nah, this is so tedious. Another psych profiling."

"I think paperwork was created solely to torment people," Tonbo said, scowling at the form. "There's probably some sort of conspiracy."

"Hmm." Chokichi laughed. "Tonbo-san, you're quite funny."

"What IS the point of these, anyway?" Tonbo muttered, not quite stabbing at the form with his pencil.

"Heh," the lady in front said, smiling. "Please hand in your forms when you are done, and we will tell you what they are for."

Well, at least they weren't going to be all mysterious about it. Although he'd like it if someone said what something was for BEFORE they made him do it.

The woman smiled as her colleague collected the forms. "Alright, everyone. Please wait as we analyse it."

And he'd been thinking they were actually going to come right out and TELL people something. "Silly me," Tonbo muttered, rolling his eyes.

She just smiled. "We will be back soon, everyone. Please, take your time to mingle."

Shimon rolled his eyes.

And why, WHY were they always trying to make the rookies MINGLE? Tonbo objected to mingling. It only meant he met even more people who irritated him.

"Nah," Chokichi said, glancing over to where Shimon was talking to the other girl. "That's Shimon, right? Hijiri Shimon? Man, he's good looking."

"I'm sure. Unfortunately, it doesn't make up for the fact that he's a pansy-boy."

"Well... let's go over and say hi. You're his friend, right? And I think that's Suzume-san. You should meet her."

Tonbo thought for a moment before replying. "Friendship doesn't normally include so very much hatred."

Chokichi just laughed. "Shimon-san! Suzume-san! Come on over!"

Shimon glanced over.

Suzume started over, looking back at Shimon. "Come on. Let's go over."

Shimon started to say something, but just sighed, getting up gracefully. "Alright."

Tonbo sulked for a moment with considerably less grace, then decided to just completely ignore Shimon. "Hello," he said to the girl. "I'm Tonbo."

"Nah," Chokichi said. "I'm Chokichi." He smiled winningly at Suzume and Shimon.

"Shimon," Shimon said quietly. "Which department are you in?"

"Psychology," Chokichi said. "Strange, ne? Never thought I'd be into analysing people. Suzume-san?"

"Suzume," she said to Tonbo. "I'm in Diplomacy and Negotiations. Shimon-san, Tonbo-san, where are you?"

"T&I," Tonbo answered.

"In Forgery," Shimon said, shrugging.

"Suzume-san. I didn't think you'd be here, though. Weren't you gonna be a teacher?" Chokichi said. He gestured around the room. "Plus... everyone here is almost fresh outta the Academy..."

Shimon hid his mouth behind his fan. Gods, what a blunt person, questioning Suzume's age like that.

Suzume smiled slightly. "They scouted me earlier, but I refused to join. I've failed the test, though, to become a teacher, so I decided to go with Intel."

Shimon blinked.

"So Intel's second place for you, huh?" Chokichi said, smiling, his dark eyes sparkling. "Heh, I bet that really put them out!"

She nodded. "It did. I think I may try to pass the test again after a couple of years, too."

That was...interesting. Tonbo hadn't thought anyone would join Intel as a temporary measure.

Shimon smiled, as the other boy laughed. "Man, you really pissed them off! They probably are livid, especially after all that talk about them getting only the best!"

Suzume shrugged. "Having a talent doesn't necessarily mean having an interest."

"Ah. So Suzume-san really doesn't care for Intel?" Shimon asked. "You prefer the children?" How odd. And admirable. Shimon detested children. "How can you like ... them? They're so... grubby."

She nodded. "I do. They're cute."

"I think they're annoying," Tonbo put in. "You must have a lot of patience, to put up with them."

Chokichi just grinned. "Na, Suzume-san is crazy."

Shimon glanced over at Tonbo. "I have to agree with Ton-darling," he said, not quite snidely. "You must have the patience of a saint, Suzume-san."

Suzume shrugged. "It's not hard to deal with them if you like them."

Tonbo shifted slightly, accidentally jabbing the end of the table leg into Shimon's calf. "I'm so very sorry, Shi-chan," he apologized. "I didn't notice your leg there. Are you alright?"

Shimon barely bit down on his his wince. The... he slapped his fan down to the side, smacking it against Tonbo's wrist just at the last moment, ensuring a large PAINFUL bruise. "I'm fine, Ton-darling," he said sweetly.

Chokichi shrugged as well. "Mah, you're still nuts, Suzume-san..." He glanced over to Shimon, who was smiling so sweetly at Tonbo. His face fell. "Na, I suppose I don't have a chance then..."

"That's good. I'd hate to have hurt you."

Suzume glanced at them. "...I think you might. They...don't seem too very fond of each other."

"But he's..." Chokichi looked crestfallen. They were speaking so civilly. And everyone KNEW that men hid their emotions behind violent facades. He didn't have a chance.

"Trust me on this," Suzume said.

"Oh, don't worry, Ton-darling. I wasn't hurt. At. All."

 

Tonbo smiled. "Good. I'm glad."

Shimon smiled back, serenely.

Chokichi glanced back to them. "Shimon-san... I.."

Shimon turned to look at him. "Chokichi-san?"

Chokichi smiled at him hopefully. "Well..." Then he seemed to lose his nerve. "Who do you think you're going to end up with?"

Shimon shrugged. "Anyone but Tonbo, obviously."

 

Chokichi, Tonbo was starting to realize, had all the subtlety of a bag of bricks. With a SIGN on it. "Oh, Shi-chan, I'm hurt. Whatever shall I do now that my love isn't returned?"

Shimon raised an eyebrow. Oh, an infatuated fellow recruit. "Whatever you wish, Ton-arling," Shimon said. "Chokichi-san, hopefully it'd be you."

Chokichi blushed.

"I think I shall kill you," Tonbo told him. "And then myself. Although, really, that'd be rather a waste. So maybe just you."

Suzume frowned slightly. "I'm sure you wouldn't, but, just on the off-chance that you might...it wouldn't be very nice at all to take advantage of Chokichi-san, Shimon-san."

Shimon just stepped to the side, enough to grind his foot into Tonbo's instep. "I wouldn't take advantage of anyone, Suzume-san," he said, voice soft, smile faint. "I'm not that kind of person. I'd rather sacrifice for my friends."

"I don't doubt it. I was simply making sure." Suzume offered him a slight smile as apology for her questioning.

Tonbo settled the end of the table leg on Shimon's toes and folded his hands over the top of it, leaning forwards.

Shimon winced. That....

Chokichi glanced over. "Tonbo-san! Your... the cane...!"

Shimon shifted, accidentally kicking Tonbo's shin. "It's alright, Chokichi-san. Just an accident."

Tonbo blinked, looking startled. "Hm? Oh. Oh! Shi-chan, I am so VERY sorry. Your feet just keep popping up in the worst places." He moved the makeshift cane, smacking it into Shimon's other ankle. "You seem very accident prone."

Shimon hissed, and hopped aside. His ankles burned. and hurt and... oh no, they were going to bruise... "I'm not accident prone," Shimon said, managing to purr. "I'm not the one who needs a cane, do I?"

Tonbo smacked Shimon across the knees, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't trying. "You're going to when I break your kneecaps."

Shimon vaulted back, fan snapping out as he tried to keep upright on his legs. "Which you can try to do, Ton-darling."

"Tonbo-san! Shimon-san! Don't...!" Chokichi started, only Shimon snapped out his whip, the air snarling with chakra.

"Be grateful I don't have my swords with me," Shimon said. "But my whip is enough to make you beg."

Tonbo considered his options. He could get into a fight with Shimon, and probably end up getting his ass kicked. It was also highly likely that he'd pass out at some point due to sheer exhaustion. Or he could sit there and, for once, be the bigger person. And NOT end up in a heap on the floor. His dignity was worth not taking a chance to inflict pain on Shimon. Just barely. "Maybe some other time, Shi-chan."

Shimon narrowed his eyes. "Ah. Of course. Beating you now would be taking an advantage of your... handicaps. Alright." Shimon coiled his rope back. and tucked it on his belt. "In which case, later, Ton darling."

Fuck not collapsing. Tonbo was out of his chair and punching Shimon in the stomach before he even finished his last sentence. "I am not fucking HANDICAPPED, you BASTARD!"

It poofed out of existence to turn back into a desk. "My," Shimon said mildly, tapping the end of his fan on Ton's neck. "So aggressive, Ton-darling."

Tonbo turned, table leg slamming into Shimon's hip. "Fucking BASTARD."

Shimon just managed to dodge out of the way. Tonbo was slow, very slow now. He grabbed his hand and yanked, kicking the make-shift cane out of the way. "You only wish you could," he said softly, smiling mildly. "I thought you wanted to do this later, Ton-darling?"

Tonbo growled at him for a moment, trying to pull away. "Yeah, well, you were even more of a dickhead. I didn't think it was POSSIBLE, actually, but you proved me wrong." After a moment, he stopped struggling.

Shimon just smiled. "Mah, Tonbo-darling," Shimon said sweetly. "I didn't know you cared so much." He stepped away, dusting off his clothing delicately. ...His legs hurt. When the day was over, he wouldn't be able to walk. But he couldn't let Tonbo see how much he'd nearly incapacitated him.

Tonbo stepped back towards his chair, swaying slightly. Biting his lip, he reached out and grabbed Shimon's wrist. "Shi-chan. Do help me back to my seat." He walked closer and took Shimon's other arm, turning him around to face him. After tugging him close, Tonbo let go of Shimon's hands, cupped the sides of his face, and headbutted him hard enough to make his own ears ring.

Shimon gasped, pulling back, staggering. Only Chokichi catching him prevented him from falling over.

"Tonbo-san! Why did you do that?"

Tonbo went down on one knee, patting around on the ground to look for his table leg. "He called me handicapped."

"He cannot handle the truth," Shimon murmured, "I'm alright, Chokichi-san."

Tonbo snarled. "Do you want me to break your nose, bastard?"

"Tonbo-san!" Chokichi said.

"You couldn't find it if you had a map," Shimon said quietly, not quite staggering away. "Please, put off your bravado, Ton-darling."

Tonbo surged to his feet, swaying, and staggered over to Shimon. "It's not bravado. I'm going to break your face." So saying, he punched Shimon in the face.

Shimon cried out, managing to turn his head enough that it grazed his cheek, instead of his nose. Even so, he was sent stumbling across a desk, nearly stunned.

"We have your housing assignments," the Intel personnel said, coming back in. She didn't blink at the sight of two of the rookies fighting.

Tonbo stopped attempting to break Shimon's head and settled back down into a chair. Not necessarily HIS chair, but it was close and he was fairly sure no one had been occupying it. If they were, well, hopefully they wouldn't be stupid enough to complain.

"Good," the woman said, watching the Psych boy try and help up the Forgery boy. Shimon whimpered slightly, and leaned against Chokichi.

"Thank you for your help," he said softly.

Chokichi blushed. "'S alright," he mumbled

"Please come and recieve your housing assignments when I call your names. Amino Aki."

"I'm fine," Shimon insisted, brushing Chokichi's hands away from him. He could walk. He didn't need a cane. Besides, Shimon just knew that Tonbo was barely able to stand up. He had to be. The utterly useless and disgusting...

He managed to stagger up to the woman to recive his posting. "What?!"

The fact that Shimon could hardly stand on his own would have made Tonbo smirk if he hadn't been unable to stand period. Of course, SHIMON didn't know that, so he managed something like a smug, triumphant grin anyway. It was only the desire to make Shimon look as bad as possible--if HE could still stand up and walk up there, then how pathetic did perfectly healthy Shimon have to look for having to lean on someone?--that kept him from collapsing in a crumpled heap on the floor when they called his name. That and the table leg, which Suzume had very kindly retrieved for him. But Shimon didn't need to know that.

Tonbo was faced with yet another tough decision once he'd gotten the form.

Either he could use the last of his rapidly dwindling chakra to read the form, and then be completely blind for the rest of the day--or at least until he'd gotten a few hours of sleep--or he could find someone to read it for him. Neither option was particularly appealing. "What're you getting all upset about, pansy-boy?"

Shimon swallowed, ignoring Tonbo. "Chokichi-san... could you read this and confirm...?"

Chokichi looked over. "... You're rooming with Tobitake-san...?"

"...He's doing WHAT?" Tonbo very nearly squeaked with incredulous surprise.

The paper slipped from Shimon's nerveless fingers. "It's impossible. We do not get along."

"I think it's a sign," Tonbo put in. "That I should kill you."

Shimon was silent a moment. "Psych has screwed up," he said quietly.

"You should go complain," Tonbo suggested. "You're good at that."

Shimon did not growl.

"The decision is final," the woman said. "You do not need to know why Psychology chose as they did."

"I understand," Shimon said, straightening. "Then we are dismissed?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. The directions are on the back of your sheets. You are expected to move in as soon as possible."

Tonbo mentally ran through a list of every curse he could possibly think of, and then started making ones up. Being assigned housing was bad enough. Being assigned to stay with SHIMON?

It was like a sick cosmic joke.

Shimon had to breathe silently. Had to count his breaths. "Thank you," he said politely. "I shall leave to pack at once."

***

Tonbo just barely managed to wait until he got home before he started bitching colorfully and cursing the ancestors of every last person in all of Intel. In fact, he didn't quite manage to wait all the time, because he actually started his litany of obscene hate outside the door.

"Hey Tonbo," his oldest brother said, opening the door. "You sound happy." Tobitake Kamakiri hauled the door open as he flicked his long red bangs back with his other hand. "What crawled up your ass this time?"

Tonbo paused in damning Psychology to the deepest pits of whatever hell they all may have believed in to growl at Kamakiri to go perform a physically impossible sex act with his own left foot. Then he went back to hating Intel.

Kamakiri just blinked at him for a moment, before shoving him aside so he could close the door. "And good afternoon to you too, Tonbo." He walked off to the kitchen. "I suppose you will want lunch. Da left some in the fridge, but I think Kouchuu ate most of it."

Tonbo waved a hand dismissively. "I'll eat later. Right now I'm going to sleep. Do you mind if I pass out on the couch?" Before Kamakiri could answer, he more or less collapsed on said couch.

"What the hell did you do?"Kamakiri leaned over, picking up Tonbo's head by the hair to peer at his face. "You look like you got run over by a sack of bricks." He paused. "I suppose you met the love of your life, then?"

Tonbo groaned and flailed weakly at him. "You don't get RUN OVER by sacks of bricks, dumbass. And no, I did not. I met a bastard."

"Oh ho?" Kamakiri dropped him back down. "All the more they'd beat you over the head with the..." He glanced over. "Table-leg. What on EARTH happened to your cane? They got pissed and broke it over your stone head?"

Tonbo scowled faintly. "No. Broke it with his whip. Bastard."

"Wow. I didn't know you were into S&M shit." Kamakiri got up, and headed to the kitchen. "Ma says the medics said that you hafta eat. Did you eat anything in the morning? Can your mouth work enough to get some soup down?"

Tonbo growled. "Wasn't like that. He's a bastard and I hate him." He thought about eating for a moment. He knew he was supposed to, but the problem was that he wasn't HUNGRY all that often. A lot of times, the thought of eating made him feel sick. It was probably the medication, but right then, he was pretty sure he was too tired for food. "I think I might drown if I tried eating soup."

"I'll make sure you don't," Kamakiri said cheerfully. "So was he good looking?"

"I wouldn't know." Tonbo's scowl deepened. "Even if he is, he's a stupid, stupid bastard."

"Oh ho, so little widdle Tonbo has got a crush on a pretty boy..." Kamakiri stuck a bowl of soup into the microwave. "So where DID you meet him?"

Tonbo attempted to get up and smack him, but only managed to wriggle a bit. "When you come in here, I'm going to smack you. It was the orientation thing for Intel. I tried to break his face."

"Oh. So THAT'S why you wandered off so early in the morning?"

Kamakiri tapped the door frame as he waited for the soup to heat, casually braiding a small handful of his hair.

"Yeah." Tonbo sighed. "And now I have to stay with him. Bastard."

"Awww, How sweet. Why did you try to break his face?"

"...He called me handicapped."

Kamakiri blinked. "Huh. So you beat his face in. Why do you look like you've made personal acquaintance with a wall then?"

"Because I'm completely exhausted? Also, I headbutted him the second time he did it. That might have something to do with it." His ears were still ringing. Bastard Shimon.

"Ton-chan, Ton-chan," Kamakiri said, shaking his head. The microwave dinged. "Don't you know that if you want to impress someone you don't go hitting them?"

"I don't want to impress him. I want to break his stupid face."

"Tonbo, you act like a kid with a crush." Kamakiri retrieved the soup, wincing at the heat. "Ow. Now can you sit up, or shall I sit you in my lap?"

"Oh, 'Niisan! Please, let me sit in your lap! You can stealthily molest me!"

Kamakiri came over, put the bowl on the low table, and whacked him across the head.

Tonbo groaned and flailed weakly some more. "Oh, 'Niisan! Hit me, baby!"

"I'm telling Ma," Kamakiri warned, and sat down, yanking him up.

Tonbo leaned against him, nuzzling his neck. "I don't care WHO you inform of our love."

Kamakiri yanked on Tonbo's ear, pulling him back, peeling him away from his neck like a sticky bandage. "I'll tell Ma you molested me, you little pervert. Me and your little pretty friend. Now open your mouth."

He spooned the HOT soup in with out warning.

Tonbo yelped and choked, spraying soup over Kamakiri. After a few moments of gagging, he managed to smack his brother. "Trying to KILL me, bastard?"

"Of course I am, baby brother." Kamakiri said. "You got leek in my hair. Ew."

"Serves you right."

"Well then." Kamakiri leaned over and spooned MORE soup into his mouth. "Say ah."

Tonbo managed to swallow this time, rather than choke and splutter. "Thank you for that warning."

"You're welcome." He fed Tonbo that way, shoving in soup into his mouth without warning.

After a few minutes, Tonbo snatched the spoon from him and smacked him with it. "You're an ass."

"And just a moment ago you were proclaiming eternal love for me." Kamakiri snagged the spoon back. "See? Ma's leek soup does you good. Soon you can go back out there and get your ass handed back to you by your pretty roommate. What's his name?"

"Hijiri Shimon. And I kicked his pansy ass every time."

"Hijiri Shimon...?" It sounded familiar. "Wasn't he your best friend back in the Academy?"

"Best friend? Hardly. We KNEW each other."

"And he was the only one you talked about," Kamakiri said, standing up so Tonbo flopped back onto the couch. "So. A reunion of schoolyard lovers, eh?"

"It was not a happy reunion."

"It looks like it was one hell of a party," Kamakiri said cheerfully. "You can sleep there if you want, Tonbo."

"Thank you." Tonbo curled up, closing his eyes. "Wake me up in a few hours. I have to move in with Shimon later. Bastard."

"Aw, ain't that sweet?" Kamakiri dumped the bowl into the sink with a clatter. By the time he finished washing up, however, Tonbo was asleep.


	3. Cohabitation: Or, Shimon's & Tonbo's happily married life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a number of unpleasant things about moving. For one thing, he had to live with Shimon. That, actually, overwhelmed any GOOD points the situation may have had. Not that it did have any, but if it had, they would have been cancelled out by the sheer vacuum of suck that living with Shimon was going to be.

There were a number of unpleasant things about moving. For one thing, he had to live with Shimon. That, actually, overwhelmed any GOOD points the situation may have had. Not that it did have any, but if it had, they would have been cancelled out by the sheer vacuum of suck that living with Shimon was going to be.

Then there was the fact that he was going to have to memorize the layout of an entirely new place. Tonbo couldn't keep up his chakra-sensing for more than four or five hours at a stretch, and, in order to conserve energy, generally didn't use it when he didn't have to - like when he was at home. So he'd figured out where everything was in his own home to avoid running into things like a complete idiot. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to figure this place out. Though he was sure Shimon would be absolutely unbearable about it. Ah, well. It was just more excuse to break his wussy roommate's face.

And he wouldn't be able to have anyone cooking for him anymore, either. What with one thing and another, training to learn how to walk and fight and function again, and all that, he hadn't managed to quite figure out cooking. Before he'd been passable, but if he couldn't even see the ingredients he was using... Damn. He sure as hell wasn't going to trust SHIMON to cook for him; the rat bastard would probably try to poison him.

Tonbo was sure he could dredge up more hugely unpleasant things about having to move. He could probably be just as whiny as Shimon, if he really tried, but he wasn't quite in the mood. There was one thing, at least, that wasn't totally horrible, and that was that he did not, in fact, have to do any of the actual moving himself.

After all, THAT was what brothers were for.

Kamakiri was convinced that baby brothers were the BANE of anyone's life. Today was his day off, a rest day from the end of a rather tedious infiltration mission, and Tonbo was now making him move his things from his shelves to boxes. The worst part of it was that Tonbo was insistent that he kept them in the exact order that they'd been on the shelves, the cupboards and the wardrobe. Honestly, Kamakiri had the urge to just throw them all into the boxes willy-nilly.

Hamushi, on the other hand, appeared not to care. Just labelling boxes as Tonbo directed, with barely a word. If Kamakiri was any sort of judge, he'd think Hamushi was reading something in his brain while everything else was going on automatic.

"Wrong box, Kama," Hamushi said, without turning around. "It should be the one labelled 'porn books'."

"What?" Kamakiri glanced down, and at the other boxes. "There's NO box labelled porn!"

Hamushi pointed.

Kamakiri stared at the word, 'encyclopedias' in nice even kanji.

"Kouchuu," Kamakiri said slowly, "there's something you're not telling us."

Hamushi didn't seem to react. Of course, Hamushi never reacted to anything. "There're pictures of the reproductive system, aren't there? And how it all works? And sexually related things. Therefore, porn."

Kamakiri dumped the encyclopedias in. "Right. your 'sexually related' crap is STDs."

Hamushi shrugged.

"If STDs are your idea of porn, Kouchuu, I think maybe you need to rethink some things," Tonbo suggested. "Or get laid." Technically, he was moving. After all, he was the one who had to go live somewhere else, right? That was effort. Anyway, he'd had a bad day. Therefore, he was perfectly entitled to lounge on the bed while reigning over his brothers as momentary slavemaster.

Anyway, what ELSE were they good for?

"How did I get suckered into this?" Kamakiri asked the ceiling, as Hamuchi surreptitiously slid STD pamphlets into Tonbo's collection of audio-tapes. "It's not as if I don't have anything better to do. It's not every day they give you a week off in the spring when you don't have injuries, just an utterly tedious mission."

"Because you're just such a nice brother." Tonbo stretched, drawing several loud pops from his back. "Also, I promised to blow you later. Remember?"

Kamakiri paused, and stared at his brother. Hamushi didn't even change his course of action, just continued to fold up Tonbo's clothing and place them in the box labelled 'dish-cloths'.

"I just wish to remind you, Tonbo, that I have an armload of heavy treatises on kunai sharpening, and I'm not afraid to drop them on your head."

Tonbo leaned over the side of the bed, groping along the floor for a moment, and then brandished the table leg at Kamakiri. "And I have a blunt instrument that I will not hesitate to hit you with. Considering that I'm laying down and you'd be standing over me to drop things on my head, that'd put it right at groin height."

"There's a box over here I can TOSS at you," Kamakiri said, but he shifted back quite a number of steps. That table-leg looked horribly blunt. "Can't you find another cane that doens't quite reflect your horrible personality?"

Hamushi organised Tonbo's underwear by colour, and quite contentedly mixed them in with the brand new red shirts their mother had bought for Tonbo.

"My personality is wonderful." Tonbo laid the table leg on the bed beside him. "Kouchuu, are you doing anything evil?"

"no he isn't," Kamakiri leaned over to see what Hamushi was doing. "He's just sorting your clothes into the correct colour piles. You've got to wash them seperately later, you know. And if you don't trust me, you can ask Ma."

Especially since Hamushi was folding Tonbo's white underwear very carefully into his red shirts, so it wouldn't show unless you shook them out vigourously.

"Oy, Kouchuu. Where do baby's weapons go?"

Hamushi pointed to the box labelled 'sex-toys'.

"Now I really don't believe you." Tonbo gave a long-suffering sigh. "Why must you two always be so cruel? All I want is LOVE."

"There's love in that box," Hamushi pointed out, the one labelled 'porn tapes.' "I bought you those tapes, remember?"

"Ah. Yeah. You did. Okay, so it's just Kamakiri who isn't loving."

"I got you your fetish underwear collection, didn't I?" Kamakiri asked, offended. "It cost me two C-class missions too. Damn ungrateful brat."

"But you keep denying me the long nights of steamy passion that I long for."

Kamakiri considered the practicality of picking up the box marked 'sex-toys' and lobbing it at Tonbo's head. In the end, he yelled, "Ma! Tonbo is being a pervert at me again!"  
Downstairs, their mother sighed. "Tonbo, quit!" she called back. "Kamakiri, you're a big boy now. Deal with it!"  
"You're such a wuss," Tonbo said. "Always running to Ma."

Kamakiri just sniffed at him. "Ma can beat all of our asses. Who else should I run to, when you wouldn't quit making insinuations?"

"It's just that most people can deal with someone making insinuations without crying to their MOMMY. That's all." Tonbo shrugged. "That's assuming you're a man, though, and not a weepy little girl."

Kamakiri leaned over, and kicked the table-leg away. Then lobbed his armful of books at Tonbo.

Tonbo grabbed one and lunged towards him, smacking him about the head and shoulders with it.

Kamakiri spun a little, and grabbed Tonbo by the shoulders, letting his brother's momentum run his head into the wall. There was a resounding sound of 'bock'.

Tonbo dropped the book to clutch at his head, staggering slightly and spitting a litany of curses against Kamakiri.

"Aw, did baby brother trip over?" Kamakiri asked solicitously, picking up the book and dusting it off. "You really SHOULD be careful, you know, Tonbo."

Tonbo snarled and picked up another book, lobbing it at him. "Bastard."

Kamakiri dodged, and the book hit Hamushi instead. Well, it WOULD have hit him, only he caught it, with a cocked eyebrow. "I suppose we don't need to pack then?" He asked.

"Oh, you do. Kamakiri was just taking a break to be a bastard." Tonbo shoved him towards the nearest box. "Pack, slavemonkey."

"I am NOT your slavemonkey," Kamakiri said, annoyed, but picked up the books on the bed and started poking them into the boxes. "Honestly, though, it's not as if YOU are going to unpack them. It's late, and I'm leaving in two hours for my date. You get to keep Kouchuu."

"Two hours? How very near that is. THough you DO take forever and day to get ready. ARE you a girl?"

"When one takes the time and effort to prepare for a date, one scores." Kamakiri sniffed. "Unlike you, ugly brat, I score every time without fuss."

"And unlike you, I don't need to spend three hours preening to score."  
"No, our little baby brother got assigned to stay WITH his score. He doesn't need to preen." Kamakiri leaned over to ruffle his hair roughly. "So cute."

"We're nearly done anyway," Hamushi pointed out. "Just Tonbo's things, correct? You get dishes and all that in your housing?"

Tonbo smacked his hand, scowling. "I was not talking about Shimon. I wouldn't fuck him with a ten foot pole. Yeah, I get dishes and stuff."

"Good, because Ma said you were going to have to buy your own if you didn't have any." Hamushi stood up, dusting his knees. "Alright, so we're about done, just sealing it off..."

Kamakiri folded the last flap of cardboard down and grinned. "Yup! All done. See you then, little brother. I'm gonna go get ready for my date."

"It's not very nice of you to leave Kouchuu to do all the moving and unpacking."

"Said who Kouchuu's doing it all? You've got perfectly good arms." Kamakiri blew a kiss to Tonbo and skipped off.

Hamushi sighed.

Tonbo looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose I could help you with the carrying. Except then I'd have my hands full and probably end up falling over or walking into things. I'm sure you wouldn't want that."

Hamushi sighed again. and picked up the first box. Kamakiri was going to get it later.

Tonbo grinned at him. "You're such a wonderful brother, Kouchuu."

"You owe me," Hamushi said simply. "The equivalent of a C-class missions."

Tonbo pouted slightly. "Whatever happened to doing it out of the goodness of your heart?"

"The same thing that happened when doing your own work results in me doing it." Hamushi shoved open a door with his foot.

***

It took more than a couple of hours to move all of Tonbo's things to his new place. Hamushi'd even used teleportation jutsu to help, but even then it was quite some time. But he met Tonbo's new roommate. And while Hamushi wasn't all that interested in boys - or girls, really - he had to admit that Shimon was very pretty.  
Tonbo very happily assisted by way of instructing Hamushi where to put things. He couldn't be COMPLETELY useless, after all. "You're so nice, Kouchuu."  
Hamushi didn't answer, just dumped the boxes in the living room.

"Hello," Shimon said, picking over the boxes delicately to get to the kitchen. His own things were few enough; about two cartons of clothing, one of weapons, one of bedding - he'd buy more, later - and the rest of his art supplies, well... he'd have to move them over slowly. "Are you Ton-kun's relative?"

"...His brother. Hamushi." Hamushi stretched, briefly. "Hijiri Shimon? It is nice meeting you."

"Thank you." Shimon smiled prettily at him. Obviously Tonbo's siblings had manners HE lacked.

Tonbo settled himself on the couch, leaning back and propping his feet up on a box. "Behind his pretty exterior lurks a bastard of monumental proportions. Watch out."  
Shimon smiled sweetly, and just padded over to open one of the boxes, the one labelled 'dish-cloths'. How considerate of Tonbo to pack some - he'd forgotten... He paused. "Ton-darling, why on EARTH do you use perfectly servicible pants as dish rags? That is extremely wasteful."

Tonbo blinked. "I don't. Kouchuu, you bastard. Get over here so I can smack you."  
Hamushi smiled briefly at Shimon. "I'll just leave the rest of the boxes outside, then," he said mildly. "Shimon-san, it looks like it might rain, so better bring your things in, yes?"

"... Thank you, Hamushi-san," Shimon said, somewhat surprised.

"...How about you come over here so I can hug you, my very most beloved brother?"  
Shimon blinked at him then at Tonbo. Hamushi just gave him a very small smile, fleeting.

"Perhaps not," Hamushi said to Tonbo. "Perhaps you might prevail upon your roommate to help. I have my own studies to return to."

Tonbo scowled slightly. "At least get the rest of them in before you leave? Please?"

"I could help you do it," Shimon volunteered.

Hamushi shrugged. "Shimon-san wants to help. So it's fine. I have my own things to do, Tonbo. See you around."

Tonbo sighed slightly. "Jerk." He just KNEW Shimon was going to do something spiteful and petty.

"My, Ton-darling, is that the way to talk to someone who'd help you unpack your..." Shimon hesitated as he looked over the boxes. "... Erotica? All seventeen boxes of it?"

"...I don't have enough porn for seventeen boxes." Tonbo sighed slightly. "Kouchuu and Kamakiri are bastards."

"Who is Kouchuu? Hamushi seems very nice," Shimon said, carrying in a box that seemed safe. 'Clothes' was always safe. "Which is a drastic contrast from you."

"Hamushi's Kouchuu. That's his nickname. And he most certainly is NOT."  
"You call your brother beetle? That sounds hardly nice," Shimon said, sniffing, cutting open the box. "Wh-" He stared at the. Frilly things. Right at the top of the box. Frilly, lacy things. That were most certainly of the undergarment persuasion.

"What're you 'wh'-ing about?"

Shimon picked up a piece of... silk - easier to think of it as silk - with the tips of his fingers. "I... think you have somehow stolen your mother's clothing. How extraordinarily debauched."

Tonbo raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that. Let me see it." He leaned forwards and took it from Shimon, feeling the fabric. "No, that's mine. I'm not sure if Ma even has any lingerie."  
Shimon gaped at him. "You own. Lingerie of the feminine persuasion?" He had no words for Tonbo's perversion.

Tonbo nodded. "Yeah. Is this a concept you have trouble grasping? I could draw you up some diagrams, if you want, although they wouldn't look very pretty."

"That is utterly perverse," Shimon said, not quite recoiling from the box. "Do you do such... things? It is demeaning, for..."

"Maybe I just think they're comfortable. Is that so wrong?" Tonbo sniffed. "What do you mean, it's demeaning?"  
"For the lady you... you.." Shimon exhaled and forced himself to be calm. It was rational. there had to be SOME explanation for this perversity.  
...It was Tonbo. That was ALWAYS a good explanation. "How can. Lace of this amount be comfortable?"  
"When did ladies get involved in this?" He shrugged. "Well, actually, I don't typically just wear it. Lots of lace isn't too very comfortable. The silk is nice, though."

"I wouldn't know," Shimon sniffed. "How would I know how you managed to acquire such... items of clothing?" He delicately picked his way around the boxes. They were all... erotica. He didn't feel like touching them. "What else can you possibly do with them?"

"I bought them. Obviously. Well, actually, Kama bought most of it for me." He folded the lacy underwear up and tossed it back into the box. "Are you sure you want to have that question answered?"

"Why would ... your brother buy you women's underwear?" Shimon decided staying in the living room was a better bet. Who knew what on earth was in these boxes? He peeked inside the one labelled weapons.

Tonbo shrugged. "Because he's nice like that."

Shimon blinked. "You use odd weapons," he said at last. "What do you intend to do with beads? Bludgeon someone?"  
Tonbo blinked. "...Beads...? I don't..." A certain suspicion was starting to form in his mind. Stupid asshole brothers. "That's not a weapon."

"It isn't?" Shimon pulled out the string of beads. About nine in all. "It's an unconventional weapon," he said.

"It's not a weapon," he repeated. "And you probably don't want to be touching it."

"Why not?" Shimon sniffed archly at him. "What did you do, ingest it?"

"Not quite. Think more at the other end."

Shimon stared at him for a moment. Then recoiled with a sound that was not quite a shriek.

Tonbo chuckled. "I told you you didn't want to touch it."

Shimon made another sound, and went into the kitchen to wash his hands. With bleach. "Why on earth were they labelled weapons then?"

Tonbo shrugged. "Kama and Kouchuu are bastards. I didn't label them."  
Shimon just gave him a look deep and intent loathing. His life here with... him was going to be so. So. Horrible. "You should consider yourself lucky that they even packed for you," he said. He'd have done a whole lot worse. "I'm going out."

Shimon had no intention of staying here with Tonbo. It was ridiculous. He would probably kill him, or get killed himself. In all likelyhood, Shimon suspected that Tonbo would suffer a death Shmon was utterly innocent of. Mistaken consumption of rat-poisn, perhaps. Or the loose step that he hadn't noticed. Something.

How could anyone expect Shimon to live with someone so... so... crude? So crass? So utterly uncultured and boorish. He blatantly exhibited his... perverse tastes, and acted with no sense of decorum or modesty. It was... It was presposterous. He couldn't stay with Tonbo. Not with any sort of quality of life...

But Intel had said that the housing arrangements were permanent for a year at least. So he was stuck having to stay with Tonbo... Well. He'd stay in his own room as much as possible then. Or out.  
On the one hand, he was glad that Shimon was gone. That meant there was no more Shimon, which was always a good thing. On the other hand, that left him with a bunch of boxes to bring in and unpack. The unpacking he could--presumably--do on his own, but the actual carrying boxes bit... Tonbo sighed slightly. He'd have to go get someone else.

Hopefully Ibiki wouldn't be doing anything.

Ibiki was doing work. A lot of work. Rookie induction was, according to Kaede-san, always enough to make her teeth itch, so she prowled her interrogation rooms instead, going over past transcripts and thinking. Which left Ibiki doing the paperwork. And T&I being one of the biggest departments in INtel meant that they had a lot.

He was NOT pleased to be interrupted.  
Tonbo was sure that Ibiki would be more than thrilled to help him. Especially considering the fact that Ibiki regularly attempted to work him to death, and recieved only the smallest amounts of bitching in return. He cheerfully informed the man of this, while making himself very comfortable on Ibiki's couch. There was no point in letting good furniture go unused.

Ibiki looked at him. Very steadily. He let his aura speak for itself. He was not impressed at ALL. "And why should I want to help you?"

"Because you're just ever so nice? And such a wonderful friend? And...hm. I'll blow you if you do?"

Ibiki rolled his eyes. "Why are you always so eager to use your mouth? You probably have oral herpes or something. Go away, Tonbo, you're cluttering up my sofa."

Tonbo shifted, propping his feet up on the other armrest. "I have no such thing. Hmph. How about I use my hand, then?"

"I have work to do, Tonbo."

"It's only a few boxes."

"It's a mountain of work. Go away, Tonbo. Or you get training."

Tonbo gave him a beseeching look. "I get that ANYWAY. Come on. Please? I will love you forever."

"No." Ibiki turned a page.

He looked up a moment later. "Why are you still here? Shall I inform Kaede-san that you wish to start training now?"

Tonbo got up and sulked over, draping himself over Ibiki's shoulders. "You amde me run laps until I couldn't stand up last week. I think you can spare the time to do this ONE favor for me."

Ibiki didn't react to Tonb's drapage. "That one favour would take up my entire afternoon. It'd benefit YOU. Everything I'd done so far benefits YOU."

Tonbo sniffed. "I think you try to kill me with training for your own sadistic amusement. And it would not take up your entire afternoon. I'm sure you could get it done very quickly."

"I'm sure you can manage."

Tonbo sighed. "If I could, I wouldn't be asking you, would I?"

Ibiki ignored him in favour of filling in yet more reports.

"How can I convince you that what you really want to do at this point in your life is help me unpack?"

"I have no idea, Tonbo," Ibiki said. "Please unpeel yourself from my back before I do it in such a way your bones are jelly."

Tonbo sighed again, wrapping his arms around Ibiki's waist. "You're comfortable. Let me rest before I resign myself to back-breaking labor that will no doubt end in me being crushed underneath boxes."

Ibiki shifted, and just his eyebrow twitched. "Why can't you ask your roommate to help you? His psych profile says he's very helpful."

Tonbo snorted. "Shimon? He's a bastard. Anyway, I tried to get him to help. He messed with my sex toys and then said I was a pervert and left."

"If you wouldn't leave them in people's face, they won't call you a pervert." Ibiki sighed. He wasn't going to get ANY work done, not with Tonbo curled around his waist like a pathetically hopeful and amorous cat.

"They WEREN'T. They were in a box. A box apparently labled 'weapons', which would make the whole thing Kama and Kouchuu's faults, anyway."

"So now it's your brothers' faults." Ibiki's voice was dry. "I still don't see any particular reason why I should help you."

"...Because, as much as I absolutely hate to admit it, I'm actually physically incapable of carrying the rest of the boxes in? And unpacking them myself would be really, really hard?"

"Actually, it might be amusing to watch you try. It'd be good training for you."

Tonbo scowled. "Right. Could we maybe leave the training to another day? One where my inability to function doesn't result in my posessions becoming a big mess of soggy cardboard?"  
Ibiki looked longingly at the huge pile of paperwork. Paperwork was nice. It was information, and it didn't paw at you like a prickly cactus. "...Fine. You owe me, Tonbo."

"I figured. Thank you." Tonbo squeezed him. Presumably it was a grateful hug, rather than a poorly disguised assassination attempt.

Ibiki patted him on the head. Only because Tonbo's head wasn't QUITE flattened could it be considered a pat.

Tonbo nuzzled his neck. "I knew you had a heart somewhere in there." He patted Ibiki's chest.

Ibiki peeled Tonbo's hand away. "Please cease pawing me."

In response, Tonbo plunged his hand into Ibiki's shirt, groping him shamelessly. "But you're nice and warm. And paw-able."

Ibiki's aura plunged to frigidity. "While you have no sense of shame, Tonbo, do you REALLY want to pick cardboard out of your clothes?"

Tonbo sighed slightly and reluctantly pulled his hand away. "Normally you don't object to me molesting you."

"Normally I'm not in T&I when you're doing it."

Tonbo sniffed. "I don't see the problem."

Ibiki swiped Tonbo's head. "Where's your place? If you prefer to grope me go right ahead. I'll let your things stay out in the rain."

Tonbo led Ibiki back to his apartment. "Here."

Ibiki surveyed the lot. "... I see that you have a lot of erotica."

Tonbo waved a hand. "Kouchuu and Kama did the labeling. Don't trust them."

"Right. Now stop clinging, or else I'll make you carry them."

Tonbo obediently stopped clinging.  
Tonbo had a lot of boxes, for an annoying teenager. Ibiki had a good mind to leave them where they were, but he brought them all in, shifting them into the empty room that had to be Tonbo's.

Being a nosy person, he also took a peek at the only other occupied room, and it was sparsely furnished - few personal effects, but already he could see the beginnings of a rather interesting personality.

"I don't suppose I could get you to unpack for me, too?" Tonbo asked.

"It's not as if I am getting very much out of doing YOUR work for you."

"...So is that a no, then?" He looked as pathetic as he possibly could at Ibiki.

"What do you think? You're supposed to have a brain in there."

Tonbo sighed slightly. "Fine. Be cruel."

Ibiki snorted. "You're very dramatic. It is not working."

"You're very cruel." Tonbo swooned onto his bed, sprawling out. "I fear I cannot take the exertion. Surely I will perish. You wouldn't want THAT, would you?"

"Oh no, if Tonbo perishes, I shall have to resort to my other fifty friends for love and comfort," Ibiki said, still drily.

"And your hand for pleasure. It will be tragic."

"I don't have to use my hand, though at least I know where my hand has been. I don't know where YOURS has been."

"Mostly my hands have been down your pants. Or mine."

"And who knows where what's in your pants has been?" Ibiki said, kicking at a box. "You can unpack yourself. I've delayed my work long enough - oh, and you need to report to work tomorrow in the morning. 0800hours."

Tonbo sniffed. "You know that very well. And fine." He sighed slightly. "That's a horrible hour to be awake."

"Ah yes. Such an ungodly hour. I'll tell Kaede-san to fix your schedule for ten then? which means your training can start at 5."

"...Five when?"

"In the morning."

"That's even more ungodly. How about not?"

"Then you report in at eight." Ibiki's voice was not quite sweet, but pretty smug as well.

"I never actually said I wouldn't. Just that it was an ungodly hour." Tonbo pouted at him.

Ibiki just grinned at him. "I'd stay and watch you," he said, "but I have work to do. So. I'll see you. Tomorrow."

"Bastard," Tonbo groused.


	4. Trials & Tribulations Part 1

Day 1

Shimon was not impressed with the work Daiki assigned him. "I know how to imitate handwriting," he didn't quite whine to an older operative as he copied out the stupid script.

The man looked over the copying Shimon was doing and raised an eyebrow. "Do you, now?"

Shimon gave him a wide-eyed, much put upon look. "I do."  
"For a rookie, I guess. Only a civilian'd be fooled by that, though."

Shimon pouted. "It's not that bad," he insisted.

"I'm sure you could fool your teachers with it. But it's nowhere near professional quality."

Shimon pouted again. It was good! He could barely tell the difference!

The older operative patted his head. "You'll get better if you practice."

Shimon did not quite pout. He was being treated like a child. That was disgusting and condescending.

The man patted him again. "Better quit pouting and get to work on improving your copying. Since you're so good and all, I'm sure you won't have any problems."

Shimon glared at the papers and wished he could set them and condescending colleague on fire.

Chuckling slightly, the man went back to his own work.

Shimon glared balefully at it and started over. He hated rookie work. Hopefully Tonbo was having a worse time.

After a moment, the man glanced over again. Poor rookie was all upset now. It was good - for a rookie. He had the shape of the letters close, but... "Try calming down a bit," he suggested. "You're pressing too hard and it's coming out too thick."

Shimon exaggeratedly put the brush aside. "Then, Akihiko-san," he said very, very sweetly, "may I see an example of your work?"

Akihiko examined the work Shimon was copying, and then reproduced it for him. "It's a little messy since I rushed, but there." It was much closer than Shimon's attempts. Rushing or not, he was a much senior operative.

Shimon's face was... not precisely a picture. Well, alright, it was a picture, because he was very pretty, and wasn't afraid of people noticing that, but he was not pleased with the fact that Akihiko managed a much better reproduction than him.

He sulked. Prettily.

Akihiko had the grace to not be smug. "So. There. Now you really should get back to work, Shimon-kun."

Shimon glared at the papers. "I hope Tonbo is having a crappier time," he muttered.

"What was that?”

"Nothing," Shimon said, smiling sweetly at him. Tonbo had to be having a worse time. Or maybe he was a psychotic individual, and happily playing in the guts and gore of the T&I dungeons.

Ew.  
Akihiko went back to his work. Shimon was interesting. Very pretty, especially when he was sulking, and pretty talented, for a rookie. Shame about being so self-absorbed. Well, hopefully he'd learn better.

Shimon pouted at his attempts. Well. He'd try to make it as good as Akihiko's first, and see. But the character formation was difficult, because the whole sheet was written by someone who had irregular handwriting in the first place.

 

***

Kaede assigned Tonbo to memorise the layout of the place. All of them had to do it. Blindfolded.

Tonbo took a certain smug satisfaction in not running into walls nearly as often as the others. Which was probably in part due to the table leg--he'd have to remember to bug one of his brothers about getting him an actual cane. Damn Shimon--but still.  
There was muffled cursing from the two other rookies, and muffled snickers from any passing Intel agent.

"Last year trial was different," said one to a colleague. "At least they have maps."

Tonbo very accidentally brought the end of the table leg down on the foot on an Intel agent attempting to sneakily step in front of him and trip him. "Oh, I'm so very sorry! I didn't see you there." And he certainly didn't mean to lean onto the table leg before pulling it away.

There was a hissed curse. "It's alright," the other agent said as manfully as he could.  
"That's good. I'd hate to have injured you." He continued on rather smugly, only to completely miss the turn at the end of the hallway and run straight into the wall.

More passing Intel agents sniggered.

"This is ridiculous," Akira muttered. "What's the point in this?"

Tonbo gathered up as much of his tattered dignity as he could and kept walking. More carefully, this time. "It's important to know the layout," he pointed out. "Even if you can't use visual landmarks. Though they're useful. Like, there. To the left. There's that poor, unfortunate soul who's going to be limping around with a busted kneecap if he doesn't stop giggling."

"Who? Where?" Akira swung around and narrowly missed braining himself on an unexpected corner. "... Oh. There."

Said unfortunate soul shut up immediately.

"Unfortunately, you can't always have those oh so handy markers. So you just have to memorize it and know, oh, yeah, that's the room by that guy who narrowly avoided being crippled." While he managed to avoid running into it, Tonbo did stub his toe on the corner Akira almost smacked into. "Being useful doesn't make it any less annoying, though. Why are there so many damn corners?"

"Because there are rooms?" Megumi suggested, and felt her way over to them. "It'd be easier if the corridors weren't quite so wide."

Tonbo thumped the wall vengefully with his table leg. "I think this building was designed to be as inconvenient and toe-damaging to walk through as possible. There's simply no other explanation."

"Or Kaede-san dumped us in a maze," Akira declared. "I shall do something to her when I figure out how to break into her apartment. Who's with me?" 

Tonbo considered that. "I would be, only I'm sort of fond of life. And my legs still being attached. It sounds very nice, though."

"Then her sub head," Megumi suggested. "Or even the architect of this place. And every single damn Intel operative who came down to giggle."

"I like the idea of revenge on everyone giggling." The end of Tonbo's table leg mysteriously found its way into a snickering operative's shin. "And the architect. Although this seems to be construction of the damned, so perhaps the poor bastard was completely insane and can't be blamed for his crimes against humanity."

"Definitely." Akira agreed. He accidentally trod on another operative's toes, so that in their wake, with Tonbo in the lead, any operatives they met were hopping and trying not to curse all rookies.

"I could go track down someone in Records, and find out who designed this place," Akira suggested.

"And you'd seduce him with your masculine wiles?" Megumi scoffed.

"... No, I was thinking we'd throw disabled operatives that Tonbo broke at them till they gave up the information."

"Perhaps you could threaten to try to seduce them with your masculine wiles. And they would surrender in despair," Tonbo suggested. From Megumi's scoffing, it sounded like Akira wasn't too very gifted in that department.

Akira drooped like a puppy. And ran into Tonbo's back. And the cane tripped Megumi over. So they all ended up in a tangle of limbs.

"Aw, so cute, rookie threesome love," someone snide said, and disappeared before they could untangle themselves.

"...This sucks," Megumi said.  
Tonbo really did wonder how he'd managed to end up at the bottom of the pile. It wasn't at all pleasant. Neither was the elbow digging into his thigh. "Whoever that elbow belongs to needs to move it. The other way!" he added quickly in a not quite squeak.

"Sorry," Megumi said. She shifted her elbow.

"Ow!" Akira said. "Not there!"

She shifted it back.

Tonbo attempted to wriggle out from under the pile. Or at least shift the bodies on top of him a bit. His hand met something vaguely round and squishy, which he gave a curious squeeze.

"...Ow," he remarked when Megumi slapped him. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes," Megumi said, and finally decided to move. Mostly by kicking at whatever hard surface she could reach, and use her other elbow.

"My face!" Akira mourned as his head went WHAM against the floor.

 

***  
Back With Our Happy Couple

Tonbo was still nursing bruises--and what was no doubt an impressive red mark on his cheek--from his earlier attempts at extricating himself from the giant pile of limbs. And the two subsequent falls after that because of some bastard who thought it was funny to stick his foot between Tonbo's ankles. He was tired enough that he didn't even bother trying to be scathing at Shimon when he came home. He just went and collapsed happily on his bed.

Shimon hadn't liked that he'd spent the entire day copying out the same damn thing. Over. And over. And over. So he went to cook something to soothe his nerves.

 

After a few minutes, Tonbo realized that something smelled very, very nice. And also that it had been far too long since he'd eaten. He gravitated to the kitchen. "What're you making?"

"Food," Shimon said, glancing over to him. "Please remove yourself from the room; it's cluttering up the atmosphere."

Tonbo rolled his eyes. "You are? I hadn't guessed." Rather than leave, he settled into a chair. "And you're being a prissy bitch. So I guess we both lose, huh?"

Shimon's jaw tightened slightly, and he continued cooking. He wasn't good at it by any stretch of imagination, but anything he did cook, he did at least tolerably well. "Your language betrays a certain level of insecurity. How unfortunate for you."

Tonbo raised an eyebrow. "Where was I being insecure there?"

"I'm sure you can figure that out," Shimon murmured. "I'm fairly sure I don't have to lead you around by the hand, when you have your own brain...or perhaps you don't, really."

"I do, in fact, have a perfectly functional brain. Thank you for asking, though. The problem is that I can't figure out how the hell you got insecurity from what I said."

"That is very sad, since it seems perfectly comprehensible to me." Shimon turned off the stove, letting the pot simmer. "Kindly get out of my way," he said, as he tried to make his way across the kitchen to get some plates. How odd, to just cook for himself - normally he cooked for his father too.

"Maybe I'd understand it better if I smacked my head into a brick wall for a couple of hours." He shifted back just slightly.

Shimon did murmur a soft thank you - an automatic gesture which he most certainly did not mean for Tonbo. "Perhaps. It might improve the quality of your brain. How did your day go, Ton-kun?"

"Oh, it went wonderfully." Other than all the running into walls, of course, and being slapped, and being crushed by his fellow rookies... "Yours?"

"Perfect," Shimon said smoothly. There was no way that Tonbo could have had a better day than he had. "Bother," he muttered. "I keep cooking too much."

"That's good. What's that you're muttering about?"

"Nothing that concerns you. I'll go eat in the living room - you may take over the kitchen now." He was never going to cook after Tonbo did. Who knew what the man would have done to the appliances?

Which reminded him that he couldn't cook. At all. Especially considering that he had no idea where everything was. "Maybe later."

Shimon shrugged, putting the pans in the tiny sink. "However you feel like."

He was so tired. Who knew that just copying the same thing over and over would exhaust him so much? He didn't even get to move very much, not even to get supplies - the others would constantly dump paper on his desk.

Maybe he'd be able to scrounge up something vaguely makeable later. Ramen, or something. "What have you got in here, anyway? Foodwise, I meanb."

Shimon just rattled off the raw foods he had. He never bought instant food if he could help it. It was unhealthy.

Tonbo sighed slightly. That was about as helpful as a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Not that that would actually really cause him any problems, but still. It would hurt and was damn annoying. Kind of like not having any food.

He supposed he could always ask Shimon for help. Except, of course, that would be admitting that he had a problem, and that there was something he couldn't do, and his pride simply wouldn't allow that.

Especially not around Shimon.

He had, of course, thought about the obvious ways not being able to see would change his life. Things like reading, writing, getting around - that was what anyone would think of.

It was the little things that kept tripping him up. Like not being sure he didn't have his clothes on the wrong way around, or finding things once he'd set them down, or even eating. It was, he'd discovered, incredibly hard to eat when you couldn't see. Food ended up jsut about everywhere except your mouth.

Suddenly having all the ability of a baby in certain areas was incredibly frustrating. Every time one of his brothers told him he'd put his shirt on inside out, or he had to grope around to find some little thing he'd just had, or he couldn't manage to eat neatly without using his fingers, Tonbo wanted to scream. Or possibly hit something, which was what he usually did. It was much more dignified than breaking down.

Even more than not being able to do things, though, he hated being helped. Tonbo had always hated weakness, and the sort of assistance he needed spoke of nothing more than weakness. He couldn't even walk unaided. He tried to avoid accepting help as often as he could, and tried to be self-sufficient, but, as much as he absolutely hated to admit it, there were simply some things he couldn't do.

Cooking was one of them. And it wasn't like he could not eat.

Tonbo sighed again. "I don't suppose I could get your help in making something to eat? I can't cook very well, I'm afraid."

Shimon glanced back to him, surprised. Tonbo couldn't cook? Why couldn't he? Everyone in the Academy was expected to know how to cook at least.

It was... also something suspicious. Tonbo was not the kind of person who would admit weakness without a reason. Shimon studied him, eyes narrow. What could Tonbo be trying to pull?

Or perhaps he really couldn't cook. Maybe he was really in need of help, and finally had to admit that Shimon was vastly superior to him.

"Why not?"

Tonbo gritted his teeth and reminded himself that not starving was more important than his dignity. But, of course, Shimon just had to ask why. He couldn't just be satisfied that Tonbo had to ask him for help.

Bastard.

"Because. I can't."

"Why not?" Shimon was still suspicious, but the way Tonbo was looking... Maybe he just couldn't. Maybe he couldn't cook and he was having to bend over and beg for help.

Actually, that image was quite appealing.

Tonbo growled. "It could have something to do with the fact that I can't tell sugar from pepper." Stupid, smug bastard.

Shimon couldn't stop the smirk on his face, dipping his head to hide it. "Can't you tell? Sugar's white - or brown - and sweet with crystals, and pepper's darker powder... Oh, poor Ton darling, some people are naturals in the kitchen, while others..."

A thought struck him. Even the most idiotic of students could tell the difference. Only a blind man coudln't tell from sight.

Blind.

"... You're blind?"

Stupid, stupid bastard.

"So you do have a brain. And you worked it out all on your own, too." A small part of him was enjoying the fact that it had taken Shimon this long to notice. That he'd managed to, up until this point, function well enough that it wasn't obvious. Of course, he still had noticed, so it really didn't matter how long it had taken him.

Tonbo hated having weaknesses, and he hated admitting to them even more. And especially to damn Shimon.

Shimon just smiled, too pleased to have uncovered a weakness to be stung. He could afford to be gracious too. "Oh, poor Ton-darling," he purred. "Alright, I'll cook for you. In fact, I made too much this time, so you have have half of what I made."

No wonder Tonbo was so prickly. The man was blind and defensive. Shimon could afford to forgive him for that.

Tonbo had been just about to cross hurting Shimon off of his mental list of activities for that day. As much as he hated the bastard, Shimon was providing him with food. It just wasn't right to kneecap the hand that fed you.

But then he said that. 'Oh, poor Ton-darling'. In that fucking saccharine tone, just dripping pity.

Oh, poor Tonbo. Poor, pathetic, crippled Tonbo. Poor Tonbo, who couldn't even cook for himself and needed help and, look, wasn't Shimon just ever so kind, helping him?

Snarling, he leapt to his feet and slammed Shimon against the counter.

"If you ever use that fucking tone with me again, I will tear out your heart and choke you with it." He punched Shimon in the stomach, digging his knuckles in.

Shimon cried out - the man was fast, and Shimon hadn't been expecting an attack. In his own home.

"...What on earth...?" he managed to grit out, trying to breathe.

Tonbo punched him again. "Do. Not. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Don't you dare pity me. Don't you dare even pretend like you do to irritate me. I'll break your fucking kneecaps."

Shimon didn't quite whimper, and barely found the energy to do a kawarimi swap, leaving Tonbo to batter a chair.

"... I wasn't even inclined to pitying you," Shimon said, wincing. "But I do now. You poor, defensive person."

Shimon quickly dodged the next blow, hooking Tonbo's foot so the man overbalanced and crashed to the floor. "You overcompensate so very much, Ton darling."

Had he been able to see, his vision would have been clouded by the red fog of utter rage he was feeling. As it was, all coherent thoughts except for 'hurt Shimon until he stops talking' abandoned him.

Tonbo grabbed Shimon's ankles and yanked, bringing him down, and then shifted on top of him, straddling his stomach, and smacked his head against the floor.

Shimon cried out again, trying to think past the pain and knee him in the balls. Or something similarly tender.

Tonbo punched him in the jaw.

Shimon whimpered, and fell still, vision going blank.

Tonbo wanted to keep hitting him, but some shred of sanity managed to make itself heard and stopped him. After a moment, he shifted off of Shimon, breathing hard and growling curses under his breath.

Fucking bastard.

He was tempted to just leave Shimon lying there on the floor, but decided that the bitching later wouldn't be worth it. So he dragged--more like kicked and rolled, really--Shimon into his room, pushed him past the doorway, and shut the door. If the bastard wanted to sleep in his bed, he could damn well wake up and walk to it.

Then Tonbo went and collapsed into his own bed.

Stupid fucking Shimon.

Day 2

Shimon was glad that his long bangs hid the bruises on his face. And he was quite, quite glad of the slow acting laxative he hid in Tonbo's food this morning.

"What happened to you?" Akihiko asked, catching a glimpse of Shimon's bruises. "It looks like you got into a fight with a wall."

Shimon tilted his face forward more, letting his hair hide it. "Nothing," he said softly. "Let's get on with our work shall we?"

Akihito raised an eyebrow. "Right."

Shimon didn't answer him, just bent to work industriously on his work. He hoped Tonbo was having a good time.

***

Tonbo was almost wishing he hadn't beaten Shimon last night. On the one hand, it had been incredibly satisfying, but on the other hand, he'd had to get up earlier so he could go get take-out to eat. He wasn't going to trust anything SHimon cooked for a long time.

He was also exhausted, and so a bit wobblier than usual. Stupid bastard Shimon.

When Tonbo came into Intel, Ibiki raised an eyebrow. "You will end up spending 40% of your paycheck on takeout," he said, as Tonbo lounged on his couch. "Don't spill on my couch, and you have to continue trial with your fellow rookies."

"It's better than being poisoned by Shimon, I won't, and I know. I'll go after I finish eating." He leaned back and sighed. "How much trouble would I get in for killing Shimon?"  
"A lot." Ibiki said.

Day 3

"You are going to buy take out again?" Shimon inquired sweetly, as dinner was cooking on the stove, filling the air with the most delicious aromas. "How positively generous of you, to spend money like water in order to help the economy."

It took every bit of restraint he possessed to not bend Shimon over the counter and sodomize him with a spatula. "Yeah, well, I'd hate to impose on you and make you cook for me. It just wouldn't be ncie."

He was going to have to learn how to cook. It couldn't be that hard, right? If he could keep everything in one place, it'd be downright easy. Then there was the whole matter of actually knowing how to make things, but, well, he could always enlist the aid of family members in that.

"How kind of you," Shimon murmured. "You are so nice."

He smiled like a cat.

Day 4

_Classified File 382:_

_Operatives Tobitake (rookie), Kato (rookie) and Mochizuki (rookie), managed to, in their assignment to memorise the AppPsy wing of T &I, somehow managed to trip the interrogation jutsu of Room 271._

"I told you it was the wrong room!" Megumi didn't quite yell at Akira. "Undo what you did!"

"I don't know what the hell I did! And... fuck. I see ghosts."

All operatives in wing 42 were affected by the jutsu.

"You should probably figure it out," Tonbo suggested.

Something that felt disturbingly like a hand stripped of most of its flesh wrapped itself around his wrist. He jumped, just barely managing to not scream like a little girl.

The jutsu was located and deactivated ten minutes after activation. The rookies were removed from the room and given a short break to calm down before going back to their assignment.

Subsequent reports from Wing 42 have instances of zombie-couches. Wing 42 is closed till further investigation.

***

Daiki pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"How in the world," he asked, "did you manage to catch the plant on fire, Shimon-kun?"

"I'm sorry, Daiki-san," Shimon said, trying to tuck away the singed ends of his hair. "...The chemicals didn't react well?"

"So I noticed," Daiki said dryly. "I still don't understand why the plants were included in the carnage. Or how, for that matter, as we try to keep flammable things--such as potted plants--away from dangerous chemicals."

"It was there?" Shimon suggested.

_Shimon's notebook  
Note: Next time do not include potted plants in experiments. Especially Daiki-san's potted plants, no matter how tempting the leaves are._

_Daiki's Notes  
Shimon-kun is a menace to plants, apparently._

***

Day 5

"Considering the incident yesterday, I have decided to set you to doing work in an environment free of flammable chemicals." Daiki led Shimon down the hall, into a filing room. There were stacks of papers all over, some large enough that they were threatening to fall over.

"You'll need to file these. In alphabetical order of author, please. And then, once you've done that, I want you to go through them and write, in as many different handwritings and languages as you can, 'I will not set Daiki-san's plants on fire'. Go from A to Z, until you've used every type of handwriting in here."

Shimon's Notebook  
If there is a way to detest someone more than Tonbo, I think Daiki is a close candidate. My wrists hurt.

***

Day 7

"Why is my couch your personal lunch-table?" Ibiki asked without looking up.

"Because I enjoy your company. Hey, you know how we were discussing how I'd get into trouble for killing Shimon earlier? What if I made it so they didn't know it was me?"

"I would know," Ibiki said. "Take your feet off my couch. I don't like you scuffing up my leather."

Tonbo rolled his eyes and moved his feet. "You couldn't prove it. It's just a coincidence. Though it seems that he's doing a good enough job of killing him on his own. I heard he set himself on fire the other day."

"Speak for yourself. Zombie-couches."

Day 9

"Right. So. Just try and interrogate a 'prisoner'." Megumi said, cracking her knuckles nervously. "What's his name?"

"One Inuzuka Tsume," Akira said, flipping the pages of the file they'd gotten with one hand as he shouldered open the door to the interrogation room. "Says here we're supposed to try and get ..." he stopped.

"Hi," said a man with with shoulder length dark-blond hair, long wicked looking senbon held jauntily between his lips. "Tsume kawarimied with me."

"That wasn't very nice of her," Tonbo remarked. "And who're you?"

"You can't make me talk," the man said, smirking. "My, you rookies are cute."

"I'll show you cute," Megumi said, starting forward ready to smash his face in.

"Megumi!" Akira grabbed her. "We gotta make him talk, not try an' kill him!"

"Well, considering her department, Megumi's way of making him talk generally includes trying to kill him, doesn't it?" Tonbo chose not to respond to the 'cute' comment. It didn't deserve recognition.

"Aw, you're so mean," the man said, standing up, not quite towering over them.

"Hey! You should be tied down!" Akira said, still holding Megumi back.

"I knew I was forgetting something." The man gave them all a serene smile, turning to the cute kid with a cane. "What's your name, kiddo, and want me to show you a good time?"

Tonbo thought for a moment. "How about after we finish trying to break your mind? And it really isn't too very nice of you not to be tied down. It's so inconvenient. Tsk."

"That's so sad. Why are all of you T&I people so intent on working instead of having fun?" the man complained, lounging against the wall.

"I can take him," Megumi insisted in a whisper only Akira and Tonbo could hear. "If Tonbo makes out with him, I can punch his lights out."

"I like how you automatically assume I'm a shameless manwhore," Tonbo whispered back. "Are you sure? He probably ranks you."

"If he tries to hit me back, I'll kawarimi with Akira," Megumi said. "There's a jutsu here, isn't there? Someone can go activate it."

"Why do I have to take the punishment? I've got a delicate constitution!"

"You're disposable," Megumi said matter of factedly. "Unless you know a way to make him scream like a little kid?"

"Get Tonbo to bite his dick off in an illusion?" Akira suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea." Tonbo looked thoughtful for a moment. "Would this involve me actually blowing him, or would the whole thing just be an illusion?" Either way was fine with him, really.

"I don't know..." Akira considered a moment, while the man on the other side of the room leered at them. Akira didn'tlike how his senbon looked perverted. "It'd help if you actually blew him?"

"...You just want to watch me sucking cock, don't you?"

Akira flushed. "N-no, that's not it...!"

Megumi rolled her eyes. "just get out there and seduce the man, before I beat on you or something. And do the genjutsu."

Tonbo didn't exactly saunter over to Genma, mostly because it'd look stupid with the cane. He did manage to project a sort of aura of sauntering, however. "What kind of good time are planning on showing me, exactly?"

The man's eyebrows rose. "Any one you like, obviously," he purred. Well. So much for newbies. This one, for example, seemed experienced in some ways.

"Tell us your name and rank, and Tonbo here will do... stuff," Akira chirped up.

Tonbo groaned inwardly. "Yes. I'm very good at....stuff." He smirked slightly, giving that last word more of a suggestive intonation than the clueless one Akira had used. After this, he was going to have to give Akira some porn. Or possibly have hot sex with him. Both were educational.

The man laughed. "Sure, kid. Bring it on. Maybe I won't crack till you'd gone all the way. Virgin eyes here might bleed..."

Akira blushed redder than tomatoes.

Tonbo shifted closer, pressing against him. "Maybe I'll go all the way if you crack."

The man smirked. "Try me, kid."

Meanwhile, Akira was muttering slightly, his hands shielded by Megumi's body, so that he formed the genjutsu seals.

Megumi sighed. Tonbo was going to have to ask everything, while she didn't get to do anything today. This was boring.

Tonbo pressed closer, hands resting on the man's shoulder, leaning against him in lieu of the cane. "If you insist."

He leaned up and kissed the man, lightly, pulling back just slightly to trace the man's lips with his tongue.

***

"Ibiki," Kaede said, "tell me why you recommended Tonbo again? Because all three of my rookies are nuts."

"Because he takes joy in mindfucking people. What are they doing?"

"See for youself," Kaede waved her hand at the close-circuit TV.

About five minutes later, the tall man - who was certainly not authorised to be near her rookies - started screaming.

_Classified File 492:_

_Operative Shiranui (special jounin) is now under observation for mental trauma. Operatives Tobitake (rookie), Mochizuki (rookie) and Kato (rookie) have been severely reprimanded._

***

Daiki had been expecting Shimon to be less than pleased about having to write so many lines and do so much filing. He'd even been expecting some sort of revenge, because Shimon seemed the petty sort.

He hadn't expected to find several other fairly new--not as new as Shimon, obviously, but still rookies--operatives snickering over what appeared to be a pretty decent replica of his personal journal.

When he confiscated it, it proved to be full of...love letters. To Kaede.

"Shimon-kun," he asked, leaning over the boy and dangling it in front of his face, "do you know anything about this?"

Shimon's eyes were large and innocent. "No, Daiki-san," he said, the shadow of his jaw just starting to turn greenish purple. "What is that?"

"The fact that you go all innocent when I ask only shows me that you do." He moved it closer to Shimon's face so he could read it. "What happened to your face?"

"I met a wall." Shimon just gave him an utterly innocent and angelic look. "...My. Daiki-san, that looks rather creative, what you want to do with Kaede-san. I didn't know you liked her that much."

Daiki kind of wanted to thwap him in the head with the book. "Shimon-kun, this is good. For a rookie. Please keep in mind that I am the head of this department, and thus far more experienced than you, and can recognize that this is a forgery. If you don't own up to it, your punishment will be even more severe."

"I'll get punished even if I don't admit to something I didn't do?" Shimon asked, guilelessly. "Daiki-san, that's horribly unfair. I'd have to confess to something I didn't do in order to get a lesser punishment I shouldn't have in the first place."

Daiki tore a page out of the fake journal and wrote a few lines on it.

"Copy these for me, please."

Shimon obediently did as he asked, his handwriting painstakingly clear and elegant compared to Daiki's scribble.

Daiki sighed slightly. "Copy the handwriting as well, Shimon-kun."

Shimon gave him a wide-eyed, kicked-puppy look, and did as he asked.

Daiki ciompared the lines Shimon had copied to the journal. "See? They're the same. Mistakes and all. You're not fooling anyone, Shimon-kun."

Shimon looked at him contritely. "I'm sorry, Daiki-san," he said, in a tiny, little kicked-puppy voice.

"I'm sure you are. As punishment, you're going to copy lines for me until I can't tell the difference."

Shimon pouted at him, but started writing the lines. It could only get better, and then Daiki'd be sorry...

Daiki patted his shoulder. "Hopefully you'll be able to hide your tracks better next time. Of course, if there is a next time, I will be most displeased."

Shimon just nodded.

***

"Intel rookies are evil," Genma said, clinging to Raidou. "They did evil things. I shall never help Tsume ever again. I swear, I thought my dick really got bitten off!"

Raidou patted him. "That's what you get for messing with rookies. Maybe you can get them to make it up to you later. With non-bitey blowjobs, or something."

Genma sniffed and clung. "Stupid rookies."

Raidou patted his head. "Poor baby."

Genma sniffled. "Kiss me better, Rai?"

Raidou raised an eyebrow. "You want me to kiss your dick better? Or just kiss you?"

"Both?" Genma asked hopefully.

Raidou smacked the back of his head. "Perv." He kissed Genma's cheek. "There. Do you need a bandaid, troo?"

Genma pouted at him. "You're so unkind," Genma sniffed. "Make me dinner."

Raidou rolled his eyes and went to make Genma dinner. "Oh, yes. I'm so mean."

Genma padded after him and draped himself over his back. "Nearly as mean as rookies. But you're prettier." He nuzzled Raidou's neck. 

Raidou reached back and swatted Genma's bottom. "Shush."

Genma grinned at him and wandered off to have a shower.

***

Day 12

"Why are we running at 3am in the morning?" Megumi asked.

"Because Ibiki's Kaede's proxy, and he wants us to show solidarity with Tonbo?" Akira suggested.

"It's because Ibiki is a bastard," Tonbo informed them, trying very hard not to pant. Or wheeze. Or gasp. Or do anything other than look absolutely cool, calm, relaxed, and in wonderful shape.

Or fall over and die, which he really wanted to do. But, dammit, he could keep up with the other two. Except his damn knee was threatening to buckle under him, so he had to slow down or risk falling over and looking like a moron.

"'S not fair," Akira complained, but slowed down. "Why do we have to run for three hours, then do more training? I thought they wanted us for our brains, not make us chuunin!"

"Everyone higher up than you is a sadist."

Just as he was starting to feel vaguely steady again, his stupid knee did buckle, dropping him in his tracks in an undignified heap.

"Fuuck," he all but wailed. "Fucking Ibiki and his fucking running and...and...fucking knee. Argh."

"They are," Megumi nodded.

"Are you alright?" Akira bent over, trying not to wheeze too badly. "Need a hand?"

It was so embarassing - Megumi was way better then either of the two boys, and she was obviously more likely to get chuunin than Akira was. Akira was very happy to stay genin, anyway. He didn't like taking B-class missions and more.

"I'm fine." Tonbo gritted his teeth and tried standing up, ignoring the flashes of pain from his right leg. "No. I don't."

God, he hated Ibiki.

"Okay," Akira said. He doubted he could pull Tonbo up anyway. "Hey, Megumi-chan. I got an idea on what to do to Ibiki."

***

Ibiki was not amused to find a little grey-and-black striped kitten clawing up his nice comfortable leather couch.

***

"Akira, you idiot," Megumi said, scowling at the floor. "This is all your fault. We're never going to get anything done while cleaning the toilets with toothbrushes."

"In Akira's defence--not that this isn't totally his fault or anything--it's not too very stupid to assume that Ibiki wouldn't react so badly to cute kittens," Tonbo said.

"Ibiki's an alien," Akira insisted.

"Put some back into it," Ibiki suggested, walking by. "The toilet on this floor can't be kept closed all day you know."

"That wouldn't be a problem if you weren't making us clean it with toothbrushes," Tonbo pointed out.

"I could ask you to do it with toothpicks," Ibiki said kindly.

"No, Ibiki, see, toothpicks are smaller," Tonbo explained. "So it'd take even longer."

"I think that's his point," Megumi muttered.

"But he was complaining about how it's taking a while. You should really make up your mind, Ibiki."

"Toothpicks, then, and finish in an hour," Ibiki said sweetly, tossing three tiny splinters of wood at them, just missing Akira's hand.  
Tonbo couldn't decide whether to curse his own big mouth or Ibiki more. He finally settled on trying to splutter out both at the same time.

It was probably a good thing that it was mangled enough that Ibiki couldn't understand what he was saying. The toothpicks might have turned into bits of lint or something.

"Do be quick," Ibiki exhorted them, and left.

"I hate Ibiki."

***

Daiki examined the files he'd told Shimon to alphabetize, then looked up at the rookie.

"Shimon-kun, did you actually alphabetize this?" After Shimon nodded, looking as earnest as he possibly could, Daiki went back to examining the files. "How is this alphabetizing?" Though, the more he looked, the more a pattern seemed to be emerging...

"'Alphabetize it' doesn't mean by the third letter in every name, Shimon-kun."

"You didn't say it wasn't," Shimon said, not innocent, but earnest.

"And here I thought you were smart. Do it over again, Shimon-kun. The right way. First letter. A to Z."

Shimon did. Again. The first letter of the second word.

Daiki sighed. Shimon really was very clever. It was a shame he was using his powers for evil. "Shimon-kun, you're only making more work for yourself. I said to do it right."

Shimon bowed and left. Then proceeded to flirt with Akihiko until he did the filing for him.

Once Akihiko was done filing, he shifted closer to Shimon, fingers brushing against his thigh, and leaned down and kissed him.

Shimon squeaked at him, stunned that he would do that, and pulled away, flattening himself against the wall. "Akihiko-san!"

Akihiki blinked, startled. "What's wrong?"

"Why on earth did you kiss me?" Not that it didn't feel nice. Sort of... light, if kisses could be, press of lips on lips, but Akihiko was... Well. Old.

"...Because you were being flirty earlier."

Shimon swallowed, and started to edge away. "... I... got to go." And then he was gone.

Akihiko sighed slightly and went back to his work. Pretty boys needed to think more about what messages they were sending when they started getting close and flirty and suggestive.

Shimon washed his mouth out at the sink, and stared at the mirror. "I should be more careful," he murmured, "or else people start getting ideas when I get flirtatious."

Day 10

A day later, Akihiko cornered Shimon in one of the filing rooms.

"Shimon-kun," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "I have to ask. Did you not like it when I kissed you the other day? I'd be more than happy to do it again, in a way that's more to your liking."

Shimon did not squeak this time. But he most certainly liked how the corner of the wall and cabinet made him feel safe, pressing against his shoulders like that. Of course, he'd feel safer if they were not there and he could run away.

"... I hadn't expected you to k-kiss me," Shimon said finally, struggling to keep the blush down. "I..." He cast for a way to dissuade him. "...You're a little... old for me?"

He looked even cuter like that, blush sprinkled like fine red powder over his cheeks, eyes wide and surprised even though he was trying hard not to let it show. "I'm not even twenty-one yet, Shimon-kun. That's not so old."

"...Um." Shimon bit his lower lip, not exactly wedging himself more into the corner. "Five years is too big a difference."

Akihiko would want more, Shimon was sure of it. But Shimon had only kissed before, out behind the weapon sheds in the Academy, and he didn't think he could go much further than that, not here, not now.

Akihiko looked mildly disappointed. "Are you sure?"

Shimon was so pretty. So cute, so nervous, teeth pressing little imprints into the soft, barely wet flesh of his lip. Akihiko found himself staring at those lips, inhaling slightly as they parted to allow Shimon to lick nervously at them. Pretty and soft and pink, gleaming softly wet in the overhead light, so very, very kissable.

It wasn't. Really. But... "Well," Shimon said, looking up at him. Akihiko wasn't that bad looking. And he did do the filing for him. "...Alright. I...if you want."

Akihiko leaned in close, breath ghosting over Shimon's lips. "Shimon-kun, I don't want you to agree because I want you to. I want you to agree because you want to."

Shimon shivered, at the warm breath over his mouth, and his tongue flickered out, just a little, almost as if to taste the air. He shifted, looking him straight in the eye. "I want to."  
"Good," Akihiko purred, before leaning in further to claim Shimon's oh so inviting lips.

Shimon did not quite mewl at the kiss this time, but leaned in only after a few moments.

_Shimon's Journal_ __

_Akihiko-san is a very, VERY good kisser. But I don't want to do it in a corner again. The cabinet had a splinter._


	5. Trials and Tribulations Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> . . .

Day 19

It wasn't very often that Tonbo managed to get home before Shimon. Usually it was only when SHimon managed to get himself in trouble with his boss, and had to stay behind to suck the guy off a couple of times, or whatever it was he did when he'd been a petty bitch.

To add to the happiness of the moment, he'd managed to drag Ibiki--who finally didn't have a mountain of work bigger than he was--over, ostensibly to help him with work, but really to function more as a large, living teddy bear. His main purpose in being there was to let Tonbo lean against him and bitch about life in general.

It certainly wasn't cuddling. They were both far too manly for that. It was just that Ibiki was very warm and comfortable, and Tonbo was resting.

The neck-nuzzling, occasional series of light kisses dropped along the line of Ibiki's jaw, and the way Tonbo was stroking his hip all fell under the category of feeling up, which often led to getting some action, which was manly and therefore acceptable.

"I wonder what Shimon did this time. Do you think he's getting raped in a closet or something?"

Ibiki sighed, and leaned on the couch. It was hard to be stern and threatening when you were seventeen, more rangy than imposing without your leather jacket, and had a part-time boyfriend leaning on you like a big cushion, but Ibiki tried anyway.

"That is no way to talk about a fellow operative," he said. "It isn't as if you haven't been doing similiarly idiotic things."

"What, like getting raped in a closet? I have done no such thing. Anyway, it's Shimon. He was probably being all stupid and flirty at someone to get them to do his work for him or something. Bastard."

Tonbo nibbled Ibiki's earlobe, then flicked his tongue over the shell of his ear.

Ibiki sighed and shifted, letting Tonbo press more against him. He did not moan.

...Okay, he did. A little. But that was because he was seventeen, and horny.

"One does not get raped in the Closet." Ibiki tried to sound reproving, but then Tonbo's teeth nipped his earlobe and his brain started to lose blood. "A-and Daiki-san wouldn't let his operatives skive."

Tonbo smirked at that little stutter and nipped again. "I didn't say 'the Closet'. I said 'a closet'."

Tonbo turned slightly and not-quite-climbed into Ibiki's lap, straddling his thigh and pressing closer against him. He made a soft little noise, not quite a moan, at the feeling of Ibiki's warm leg between his thighs, shifting just slightly to rub the growing bulge in his pants against Ibiki's hip.

"How very st-strict of him," Tonbo murmured, leaning back just slightly so his warm breath could wash over Ibiki's ear as he spoke. "No rape until they've finished all their work, huh?"

"You don't know what the Closet is?" Ibiki managed, shifting his leg up, and pressing against Tonbo, hands going to Tonbo's shoulders. Tonbo was an easy fit against him - at seventeen, he still wasn't very tall, not compared to Ibiki, though he had enough attitude for twenty. "And Daiki-san is very strict. There is no rape at all, in Intel."

"Can't...can't say I do." Tonbo slid the hand on Ibiki's hip up under his shirt, thin, calloused fingers stroking over his muscled stomach and chest. Ibiki's skin was warm under his fingers, and smooth except for the scars; he traced over every one of them, as well as the lines of hard muscle underneath, slowly mapping Ibiki's strong, scarred body with his fingertips. "Is th-that...is that a rule?"

"'S," Ibiki said, bucking slightly, breath coming faster. "'S a rule - no one... no one can get away with anything... i-in Intel." One of his hands slid down Tonbo's shoulder, to cradle his hip, thumb stroking through the thick fabric of the pants. "The Closet," he continued, leaning in to nip and tongue Tonbo's earlobe, "'s the Supply room 19."  
Tonbo slid his knee up, pressing it lightly against Ibiki's groin, while his hips moved in tiny little jerks against the larger teen. "An' what's so...so sp-special about it?" His hand moved farther up Ibiki's torso, smearing little trails of sweat over his chest as he stroked and rubbed, fingers splayed over his chest, thumb brushing one hard nipple. 

Ibiki groaned. A stuttering, growling sound, and pulled Tonbo closer, bucking up against Tonbo. The brat knew how to move. "'S the room with a mattress," he whispered in Tonbo's ear. "An' supplies. Like lube. Condoms."  
A low, appreciative moan spilled from Tonbo's lips as Ibiki pulled him close and whispered to him like that, voice low and rough right at his ear, breath washing over the side of his face. He shivered, back curving into an arch, and ground down against Ibiki. Actually ground, practically writhing in his lap, rather than just shifting little movements.

"Sounds--haaa--useful."

"'S," Ibiki agreed, shifting. "Do somthin' wit' your hands, Ton-kun."

Tonbo continued exploring Ibiki's chest with one hand, while he slid the other down, nails running lightly over Ibiki's bared stomach, and then pushed his fingers just under the waistband of Ibiki's pants.

"Like what? 'S lots of things I can do with my hands." He stroked Ibiki's hip for a moment, then pulled his hand away and dragged a fingertip down the front of Ibiki's pants.

Ibiki arched slightly, his head falling back against the couch, growling deep in his chest. "Gods, Ton-k-kun..." His hips rolled slightly, feeling calloused fingertips catch on his scars, ticking on his skin, teasing him. "You know, Ton-kun," he growled. "Touch me."

Ibiki's low growling sent a shiver down Tonbo's spine. He leaned in, kissing Ibiki's neck, his jaw, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. That one finger continued running over the front seam of Ibiki's pants, touch teasingly light. "Touch you WHERE? 'S a lot of you to touch."

The fingers on Ibiki's chest trailed over and down his side, nails running lightly over his ribs.

"Tease," Ibiki muttered, shifting, arching up against that teasing touch, and one of his own hands finding their way into Tonbo's shirt.

"N-not my fault you won't be...mnn...specific." Tonbo wriggled slightly, arching into Ibiki's hand.

He relented and cupped Ibiki's stiffly swollen crotch, squeezing sligfhtly and rubbing his palm against it.

"Oh, now it's my fault?" Ibiki ground up against his hand, pulling him closer, his own fingers flicking against the nipples he found under his shirt. He thought about ordering him to get rid of his clothing, and decided it was too much trouble.

"Yes," Tonbo breathed, not quite moaning. "S'your fault." He fumbled at Ibiki's pants, tugging the zipper down and sliding his hand in.

Ibiki groaned, and arched. "T-ton-kun..."

Tonbo skimmed his fingers over Ibiki's cock, lightly stroking the hot, smooth, hard flesh. He ground himself against Ibiki's hip, making an impatient noise low in his throat. "An' you're not fair."

"You always do the work," Ibiki managed, arching up and starting to pant.

Tonbo made a noise somewhere between a huff and a whine. "Bastard. Touch me," he pleaded, hips rocking against him.

"Mmm. " Ibiki's smile was wicked, as he rocked against him, but his fingers DID slide across skin, ribs.

Tonbo writhed against him, hips bucking up, moaning pleadingly. "I-Ibiki..."

Then Ibiki finally relented, dipping his fingers into the waistband of Tonbo's pants. "Impatient."

Tonbo arched up, squirming slightly. "You're just mean."

"Mm." and then his fingers grazed the base of Tonbo's cock, and shifted, pressing his knee up.

Tonbo inhaled sharply, shuddering. "Ahh..." He slid his hand deeper into Ibiki's pants, cupping his balls and rolling them in his palm.

Ibiki groaned, and bucked at him, his free hand reaching down to fumble with Tonbo's fly. "C-come on, Ton-kun..."

Tonbo teased Ibiki's cock free of the confines of his pants, stroking up the underside and then rubbing his thumb over the tip.

Pretty soon, it was just the feeling of hot mouths on each other, hot fingers on each other, friction just this side of burning, enough that Ibiki had to pull back, and lick his fingers, before pumping Tonbo again, encouraging - ie growling at - Tonbo to do the same.

They were not exactly near the climax, but close, when Shimon opened the door.

It probably didn't help that their clothing was in utter disarray.

Tonbo paused briefly in stroking spit-slick fingers over Ibiki when he heard the door open. A beat, and then he went back to pumping Ibiki's shaft, arching into the larger teen's hand and writhing and moaning.

So what if Shimon saw? Tonbo certainly wasn't shy, or even particularly modest. Though poor Shimon might be jealous of Tonbo getting action when it was so very apparent that he, the pretty, cultured one, wasn't.

Shimon blinked. Stared. And tried not to squeak. "...Ibiki-san...?" And Tonbo? On the couch?

Ibiki grunted, and tried to sit up. While Tonbo had no modesty to speak of, Ibiki did have a sense of decorum. And the poor boy on the other side of the room looked like he was about to faint. "Shimon-kun," he managed.

Damn Shimon. Tonbo was begining to think Shimon actually tried to screw things up for him. "Go away," he told Shimon, voice breathy and strained. "We're busy."

"I can see that. But why the couch?" Shimon all but wailed. That was his couch! He sat on it for meals! Now he couldn't touch it. It was all defiled.

Ibiki tried to apologise, but his voice stuttered to a stop when he realised that Shimon wasn't in disarray from shock but from... His lips were bruised, and in the fading bruise on his jaw was another bruise, darker, and much more defined, while his uniform looked like it'd been rumpled.

Shimon noticed his staring and blushed. "... I'll just go into my room..."

"Thank you." Tonbo hardly waited for Shimon to leave the room before he went back to pumping Ibiki, squirming against him. "Stupid interrupting bastard."

"We are on the couch," Ibiki pointed out. "And he's not exactly not 'getting' some.." Which was what Ibiki woul have said normally, if Tonbo wasn't squriming against him and being generally sexy.

Talking distracted Ibiki from continuing to jerk him off, so Tonbo shut him up by kissing him.

Ibiki growled into his mouth, and went back to jerking him off, the pace a bit more frenzied. He felt... slightly unsettled, to see Shimon come in like that, but he shrugged it off as being interrupted.

Plus, Shimon's pointed presence in his own room was enough to make him try and get Tonbo off faster, so he could leave and let Tonbo get yelled at for making a mess on the couch.

Tonbo came soon enough, bucking up hard and crying out against Ibiki's mouth.

Ibiki was silent as he came, biting down on his own grunt of completion, not quite squirming against Tonbo.

Tonbo leaned against him, panting, hips still thrusting slightly against his hand. "I suppose you're going to leave me to get yelled at by Shimon now."

"Yes," Ibiki said, shifting. "You're not one for mushy cuddling anyway." He patted Tonbo back into place and pulled away. "Have fun." 

Day 23

"My arms," Akira annouced, "hurt worse than hell."

"Four hundred benchpresses and two hundred push-ups are too much for you?" Megumi asked, shifting the heavy texts aside so she could make notes.

"Yes!" Akira whined. "It's so much so I can't even lift my pencil. See?"  
"Poor baby," Tonbo muttered, glaring in the general direction of the books.

It wasn't that he disliked reading. Books could be very nice. It was just that he wasn't particularly fond of studying, and especially not after being forced to do the Workout Routine from Hell.

"Quit whining, Akira," Megumi said, and pushed the books in Tonbo's direction. "I hate preparing for stupid psychology lectures. Here, Tonbo, you can read the damn books, and I'll write the notes. Akira, make yourself useful and get me pencils and paper."

Akira whined. "Nanashi-san is so mean," he said as he got up, not quite shaking. His legs were shaky and feeling utterly abused, so that when he nearly walked into the library's other patron, he fell over.

"Ow," he said.

"Are you alright?" Shimon said, helping him up. "I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

Tonbo gave her a blank look. "I'll get right on using my awesome psychic powers to do that, shall I?"

Megumi stared at him. Then looked more closely. "... Next time just say so, idiot, or else use your telekinetic powers. Oy! Akira! Stop flirtng with pretty-boy over there and get the blind-code versions of the books!"

Akira started, and flushed. Shimon just cocked an eyebrow, and left. He didn't have to read all those books - not when he'd read them when he was a child, and had quite a number memorised already. He was taking the Psych lecture for interest, not because he was made to, like the T&I rookies were.

"I'd rather make all of you pathetic non-psychic fools fetch things for me." Once Akira'd gotten versions of the books that he could actually read, he went through them, telling Megumi the important bits. "Also, my telekinesis is a bit rusty. I haven't used it in a while."

"No wonder Ibiki makes us do all the training with you," Akira groused. "'S because you're lazy."

"Actually, Akira-kun, the one who's lazy is you." Megumi muttered, tongue sticking out as she scribbled down in Leaf-short-hand. "Next I bet we'd have to learn all the other types of short-hand. Or something. Or weird stuff."

Tonbo snorted. "I use more energy getting out of bed each morning than you do all day." Which, granted, only meant that he had some rather serious problems, but still. Disease-fueled muscular degeneration aside, he still wasn't as lazy as Akira. "What kind of weird stuff? Now I'm imagining Kaede-san teaching us the wonders of tantric sex. Thank you, Megumi. Those are really the mental images I needed."

"Didn't you know? She's the priestess of the Tantric Sex temple down Willow Avenue." Megumi flipped a page. "There, now we're done for the stupid psych lecture. Here, Akira, copy it out in blindcode for Tonbo."

"I don't suppose I've ever mentioned how I like my brain, have I?" Tonbo reached over, took her pencil, and thwapped her in the head with it.

"Ow!" she said, and whacked Akira in the head. "Stop doing things to Tonbo's brain!"

"I didn't say anything!" Akira wailed.

"For once, he didn't do anything." Tonbo thwapped her again. "You should be nice. Show your love without violence!"

She whapped him hard in the head. Then whacked Akira for good measure, because he was looking pathetic.

Tonbo rubbed his head. "My ears are ringing now. Is that like a declaration of eternal love from you? Ooh, or was it a proposal? I'd be happy to let you have my babies."

She punched him in the gut, hard enough to send him into Akira, papers flying. "Maybe you can have Akira's babies," she said sweetly. "Now are you both finished fooling around? The lecture starts in five minutes."

"I needed those organs," Tonbo wheezed reproachfully, straightening up.

Sort of.

Kind of.

He was mostly sitting up, at any rate, even if he was rather double over and clutching at his abused stomach.

"I'm sure Akira would love to donate his." Megumi stood up. "Come on, our attendence is compulsory."

 

Day 24

"Akihiko-san?" Shimon asked, when he had the breath to do so, "...D-don't you have work to do?"

Akihiko kissed Shimon's neck, just under his chin, sucking a dark red mark into existence. "I finished most of it earlier." One of his hands was cupping the back of Shimon's head, and the other resting on his hip; Akihiko slid the one on his hip back, cupping and squeezing Shimon's firm ass.

Shimon shivered, making a soft, mewling sound, fingers curling into Akihiko's shirt. "... I... " Then Akihiko's hand was touching his... his... He squeaked, jerking back. "Akihiko-san!"

Akihiko leaned up, looking at him curiously. "Mm?"

"You shouldn't..." Shimon's cheeks were flushed already, from the kissing, his mouth darkened and moist, but he was obviously uncomfortable, not quite squirming. "...You shouldn't put your hand... "

Akihiko's hand stayed for a moment, and then he reluctantly pulled it away. "Where am I allowed to put my hands, Shimon-kun?"

Shimon swallowed, looking at him. "...I don't know? Just...not there..."

Akihiko kissed him again, sliding his hand up under Shimon's shirt. "What about there?"

Before Shimon could answer, another voice asked, "What in the world are you two doing?"

Shimon squeaked, jumping back and banging his hip agianst the corner of a shelf, as Akihiko all but pulled his hand out of his shirt. "... D-daiki-san!"

Daiki raised an eyebrow at them. "Well? Do explain to me how this constitutes doing your work."

"I, er, that is, um, sir, you see....er..." Akihiko gave up and - well, he didn't exactly cower. It was more a sort of cringing and quietly waiting for his no doubt impending doom.

"Shimon-kun, can you explain?" Daiki asked.

"... Akihiko-san was helping me get something out of my eye." Shimon said, brazenly ignoring the fact that his uniform was mussed.

The eyebrow rose up farther. "Was he. I suppose that explains the fact that he had his hands up your shirt. And the hickies."

"They are insect bites," Shimon said, tilting his chin forward. He ignored the shirt part.

"Of course they are. And insect bites are mouth-shaped. Shimon-kun, haven't I told you before that I'm not sutpid?"

"Yes," Shimon said, voice steady.

Daiki sighed slightly. "And, Shimon-kun, I can tell the difference between hickies and insect bites. Probably better than you can, since I'm sure I've had more experience with both, being much older."

Akihiko looked slightly green at that. Shimon felt queasy at the thought. Daiki was... nearing forty. He was old. No, ancient. How could he...?

"Follow me. And get that stunned goldfish look off your face, Shimon-kun. It doesn't suit you." Daiki led them through the halls, into a room.

Several of the previous rooms Shimon had been assigned to organizing as punishment had been crowded and messy. This one, however, outshone all of them. There was literally not an inch of floor not covered by paper.

"As you can no doubt see, this room is in desperate need of organization." Daiki gestured to the filing cabinets lining the walls. "You two will be providing it. With supervision, of course, since you obviously cannot be together alone without jumping each other's bones in a corner."

He left for a moment, grabbed a passing operative, and told her to go get his work. Back in the room, he cleared off a desk--by pushing the papers on it onto the floor--and sat down, awaiting the arrival of his own paperwork.

Shimon managed to pull a mask of cool, blank indifference over his face.

It was just... unthinkable that Daiki was... knew about this sort of thing. It was mind-boggling - it broke his brain thinking about it. Did he... even know about se-...? No. He was not thinking about that. That was too horrible to contemplate. If he tried...

He was not pleased about having to do filing. At all. It was hours of work!

"Oh, and Shimon-kun? You'll need to come in at 0500 hours tomorrow to run laps with the T&I rookies," Daiki told him.

Akihiko breathed a mental sigh of relief that HE didn't have to do anything like that.

"You, Akihiko, will be alphabetizing the downstairs library."

His relief turned to cold horror. "Daiki-san, sir, no one's used that library in nearly three years."

Daiki did not grin at him, and his tone was completely neutral. They could all fill in the smug triumph themselves. "That's why it's so badly in need of organizing."

"Daiki-san, I don't need to...!" Why should Shimon be punished by running laps? He didn't do anything wrong! It was Akihiko's fault. Him and his exquisite kissing skills and. Now he was stuck in a dusty room smelling of ink and scrolls and bamboo.

"I'm sure you're not thinking about disputing my orders, Shimon-kun," Daiki said pleasantly. "That would be stupid, and you're very clever."

Day 25

Tonbo was less than happy about Shimon joining them in the morning. Partially because it was Shimon, and also because he could sense a sudden loss of the ability to walk in the near future. It might have been his latent psychic powers manifesting, but was most likely the way his leg had refused to work for a good twenty minutes after he'd attempted to pull himself out of bed.

"Whyever are you here, Shimon? I think you're a bit confused. This isn't your department."

"Daiki-san wants me to help supervise," Shimon said blandly, "And get to know the rest of the departments. Good morning...?"

"Akira," Akira said, eager like a puppy. Megumi whapped him upside the back of his head.

"Stop staring at him," she snapped. "I'm Megumi, AppPhys. The others are AppPsy. Now can we start with the running?"

"Of course, Megumi-san," Shimon said smoothly, smiling pleasantly at her.

Tonbo would very much prefer they didn't start with the running. He wasn't going to let Shimon know that, though. Bastard.

Spiting Shimon, it turned out, provided him with a great deal of energy that he hadn't previously thought he'd be able to muster. It was most likely only because Shimon was there that Tonbo managed to remain completely upright the entire time. At the expense of the ability to walk later, yes, but still.

Anyway, not looking weak in front of Shimon was more important than mobility. The bastard would latch onto the slightest hint of a crack in Tonbo's defenses and pull it as wide open as he could, so Tonbo had to make sure he was at his best around him.

Which was not, of course, to say that Shimon was an inspiration or anything. He wasn't. Inspiration didn't include so much hatred.

Shimon had not realised that he was so out of shape. Filing was not good for one's physical fitness. But he wasn't that bad, really. He was about par with Megumi-san, who was admittedly in AppPhys, and if Shimon had learned nothing else in Intel, it was that AppPhys was fairly focused on the physical aspect of interrogation.

Akira-san was panting behind them both by the time half of their laps were done, and Tonbo... well.

"Ton-kun," he asked sweetly, "do you need us to slow down?" 

Tonbo snarled at him, breaking into a short sprint to catch up with Shimon and knuckle his ribs. "Remember the conversation we had the other night about using tones like that?"

Shimon smacked his hand away. Right now? He was in better shape than Tonbo was, and he could so easily kick him in the knee. "Of course I do, Ton-darling. I was just concerned."

"You can take that concern, Shi-chan, and turn it sideways, and shove it right up your fucking ass."

"Tonbo!" Akira exclaimed. "I apologise, Shimon-san, he's..."

"We are flatmates," Shimon said coolly. "I know him fairly well. He's merely... tired, right, Ton-darling?"

Megumi snorted. 

He was, in point of fact, incredibly tired of Shimon's continued existence as something other than a pile of quivering jelly. "You could say that, yes."

"Well then, Ton-darling," Shimon said, with only the slightest lilt of emphasis. "We should continue running? It will not do to let our muscles get cold and cramp."

Tonbo jabbed his toes into the back of Shimon's knee. "We should."

Shimon twisted out of the way, his smile still cool, but anyone could see the enimity between them.

"They'll run first," Megumi said, in a rare show of tact, grabbing Shimon's shoulder. "Akira and Shimon-san. At least Shimon-san can make Akira run faster, the lazy bastard." 

Tonbo didn't thank Megumi, but he did exude a vaguely grateful aura in her general direction. Had he had to remain near Shimon, a fight was sure to break out, and he didn't think he could do much running after that.

It was obviously all bastard Shimon's fault for not being able to keep his bastard mouth shut.

Shimon just smiled and graciously exited the scene. Obviously it wasn't him who had been seething uncontrollably.

"Could you break his head for me?" Tonbo implored Megumi. "You'd be doing humanity a favor." 

"No," Megumi said. "You haven't heard what they said about Daiki-san? Daiki's like... the demonic-form of Kaede-san when she is riled." SHe paused, thinking. "Actually, I think all the HODs are demons. Especially Hideyoshi-san."  
"You could make it look like an accident! How about just cripple him? Break his legs. He'll still be able to do his job."

"...You know the ones who make the accidents aren't T&I?"  
Tonbo thought for a moment. "How about you kidnap him? And blindfold him, and then break his legs? Then he won't know it's you, so he can't tell, and everyone will be happy."

"...You really hate him, don't you?"  
"Hate doesn't begin to cover it."

"... Well. There goes my hope of hot-mansex."

 

Day 30

 

"Please," Shimon said earnestly, placing the bowl into Tonbo's hand, "do drink some of the soup? Eating out all this time can't be good for you."

Tonbo regarded it suspiciously. "Being poisoned won't be good for me either."

Shimon's aura was totally innocent and earnest. "I promise that I have put nothing harmful in the soup. But go ahead, and don't trust me, if you wish." 

Tonbo scowled at him. "I won't. You don't fool me. I know you're a basatrd and out to get me." Although it did smell absolutely heavenly, and he was too low on money to get anything resembling decent. Maybe he could go bug Ibiki for food...  
Shimon just stepped back, turning back to the stove, washing his hands. "If you want to believe that," he said mildly, "There's nothing that can help your paranoia."

"A little paranoia is very healthy when your roommate hates you," Tonbo pointed out. He set the bowl down on the table and settled into a chair, glaring in its general direction.

On the one hand, Shimon was a bastard. And hated him. And would no doubt take utter joy in making him literally vomit his own organs. Tonbo wouldn't mind being poisoned too terribly much, since he'd know it was Shimon and be able to beat him into a fine paste later, but he had strict orders from his doctor to not get any sicker.

On the other hand, he was very hungry, and didn't have enough money to get take-out. And, well...If Shimon poisoned him, he'd know it was Shimon, and he'd be able to beat him into a fine paste later.

"If you did anything to this, I will beat you later," he promised, taking an almost hesitant sip.

Shimon watched him drink the soup, and just smiled. The itching-salve was on the outside of the bowl, while the antidote was in the soup. So now the effect was cancelled out - but it just meant that Tonbo was wrong in being so paranoid. This would be... useful at any later date, if Tonbo decided to be... uncouth.

***

Day 32

_Shimon's Notebook:  
I find an urge to exact a slight revenge on Daiki-san. It was entirely unfair to force both Akihiko-san and me into organising and filing an entirely useless room, all for something that is entirely innocent._

There was a full minute of silence as Daiki processed Shimon's request and then proceeded to just stare at him, as if waiting for him to say he'd just been kidding.

When it became clear that Shimon was, in fact, earnest, Daiki sighed slightly.

"What is it, exactly, that you wish to know about sex, Shimon-kun? There's so very many things to tell about. You'll have to be specific."

That surprised him, a little. He hadn't expected to have to go through with an actual detailed request. He'd been expecting Daiki to keel over in shock - older persons were more susceptible to heart failure, weren't they?

He bit his lower lip. "... The one that you claim you were most experienced in, Daiki-san," he said finally. He didn't know of these 'many'. So there couldn't be very many anyway. 

Daiki raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall talking about any sexual experience. I did say that I know what hickies look like. That falls under the category of making out. And, ah, I'm not so sure you really need that explained. Or were you looking for pointers?"

"How do you know about that, then, Daiki-san?" he asked, eyes guilessly wide - of course that had nothing to do with the fact that he felt somewhat stunned that Daiki could offer him pointers. On anything.

"It may stun you to know this," Daiki said dryly, "but I am not, in fact, so very ancient and hideous that the mere thought of looking at me causes the brains of mortals to shrivel in terror. There are people who even find me quite attractive."

Shimon had really not needed to know that. Honestly. The thought of Daiki making out with anyone was like enough to thinking of one's parents having sex.

It broke the mind.

"But I find that difficult to believe, Daiki-san," Shimon said finally.

Daiki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, hopefully I can explain it well enough that your opinion changes." He proceeded to go into a detailed explanation of the finer nuances of tongue-fucking someone.

Shimon wondered whether it was possible to die of embarassment. No, this felt a lot more lethal than mere embarassment. More akin to mortification and the shut-down of his mind in order to protection the higher functionings.

"...Well," Shimon said, trying not to sound like most of his brain had died out of sheer self-preservation. "It's one thing to know the theory."

Daiki tried not to sound too very amused as he asked, "Are you asking for a demonstration, Shimon-kun?"  
"...Yes."

Daiki thought for a moment. He couldn't demonstrate on Shimon. Disturbing age-gap aside, it would be entirely unprofessional.

He stepped out into the hall and pulled the nearest operative who looked to be around his age into the room. "Could you help me with something--" he paused to look the man over-- "Keisuke-san?"  
Keisuke was a man of moderate height, strangely familiar, like Shimon had seen him or a relative before, dark shaggy hair falling about his shoulders, and a surprised look in his dark eyes. "I suppose so, Daiki-san. What do you need me to do?"  
"Help me demonstrate making out for Shimon-kun." That was close enough to forewarning that Daiki hardly felt bad about pressing Keisuke to the wall and proceeding to thoroughly ravish his mouth.

Shimon could hear Keisuke's muffled 'wha--?' before he was pressed up against the wall, and well. Shimon hadn't thought that Daiki could do that. He felt a little more of his mind hide away at the sight. 

After a few minutes, Daiki pulled away, hardly even breathing faster. "Was that an adequate demonstration, Shimon-kun?"

Keisuke looked dazed. Dazed and horrified.

"Keisuke-san looks like he's about to keel over." Which was quite the wrong person he wanted to get have a heart-attack.

Daiki patted Keisuke's cheek. "Pretened I'm someone more your type, Keisuke-san, and do tell me how that was."

Keisuke glanced at Shimon - a quick, fleeting thing that Shimon nearly missed - and looked back at Daiki. "It was... alright," he said, quietly.

"Alright?" Shimon asked, scorn filling his voice. "Daiki-san's old. It can hardly be worse."

"Old? Shimon-kun, I'm hardly older than Keisuke-san."

"You're both old," Shimon said in his ancient wisdom of fifteen years and eleven months. "Positively geriatric." 

"We're not even middle-aged," Daiki pointed out.

"Akihiko-san is middle-aged."

Daiki snorted. "Akihiko-kun is twenty."

"Which is old," Shimon insisted. Keisuke made a somewhat muffled sound - something that might have been a strangled laugh that came out as a choked cough, perhaps - and excused himself.

"Thank you for your help," Daiki called after him before turning back to Shimon. "No, it's not. You're, what, fifteen? That's only five years older than you."

"I'm sixteen," Shimon said, setting his jaw, the fading bruises along his jawline coming into sharp relief against his paler skin. "That's old. It's not that old, I grant, but it's still old. He was... chuunin while I was in the Academy! That makes you and Keisuke-san ancient."

Daiki shook his head. "For someone so clever, you can be very stupid sometimes, Shimon-kun."

Shimon just gave him an arch look just shy of insolent.

Daiki chose to ignore the look. "So, Shimon-kun. You've had your demonstration. May I get on with my work now?"

"Of course you may, sir," Shimon said, demurely, but the way his eyelids hooded his eyes, it was more than insolent - he was challenging. "It must have been a difficult... experience, trying to prove something to me, with Keisuke-san, since he's old and inexperienced."

Because old meant undesirable, and that meant not as experienced. If ever.

This time Daiki did sound amused. "Are you asking for a personal demonstration, Shimon-kun? That would be highly unprofessional." On the other hand, Shimon was very pretty, and it wouldn't be so inappropriate if Shimon initiated it.

Shimon looked indecisive for a second, then nodded. "Why not?" After all, it was not as if Daiki could impress him with just a kiss, right? Akihiko was a very good kisser, for his age.

"Alright." Daiki replicated his earlier actions with Keisuke on Shimon.

_Shimon's Notebook:  
Apparently Daiki can kiss better than Akihiko. I might be onto something._


	6. Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonbo was fairly sure his mother had been quite happy to kick him out of the house. With that in mind, he wasn't so sure why she was also so eager to drag him back. Apparently he had to spend time with his family, but that brought up the question of why she'd so gleefully seen him off to go live in Intel-assigned housing.

Tonbo was fairly sure his mother had been quite happy to kick him out of the house. With that in mind, he wasn't so sure why she was also so eager to drag him back. Apparently he had to spend time with his family, but that brought up the question of why she'd so gleefully seen him off to go live in Intel-assigned housing.

Not that he was really complaining, though. It meant he could actually eat dinner without being afraid it was poisoned or getting take-out, and he got to spend a couple of days without Shimon, which was always nice.

Of course, there was the fact that his family was there. That was a bit of a drawback. Still, he could put up with Kamakiri and Hamushi for the sake of good food and no Shimon.

Even if Kama did inexplicably insist on barging into his room and talking to him.

"What do you want? And why don't you knock? I could have been jerking off or something. Neither of us wants you interrupting that."

"That would have blinded me indeed," Kamakiri agreed, blandly. "Shaa, you won't need to be jerking off soon, though. You're gonna be having your fiance do it for you. Well. If you're nice."

Tonbo patiently waited for the rest of the joke. When no punchline was forthcoming, he tossed a pillow at his brother. "You've gotten even less funny."

"Would I joke about something so serious?" Kamakiri asked, catching the pillow and tossing it back at his brother, voice affronted. "This is serious, brat."

Tonbo tried to think of suitably small words to explain in, since it was obvious that Kamakiri had woken up retarded that morning and couldn't udnerstand more complex vocabulary. "I don't HAVE a fiance."

"You do," Kamakiri said, quite satisfied at being the one to break the news to him. He moved to sit on the bed, then paused to check that the sheets were clean before sitting down. "Weren't gonna be told till he came of age. But now he's sixteen."

"...Right." Okay, so Kamakiri was crazy rather than stupid. Alright. Tonbo could humor him. "Sure. And who is this fiance?"

"Some really pretty guy," Kamakiri said, enthused. "Hamushi says he's prettier in real life than the photo we got, but hey, who looks pretty as a baby, right? You were downright ugly then. At least you look less like a prune now."

"Kamakiri. I asked who he is, not what he looks like."

"You know him." Kamakiri leaned over, and tsked over the mess that Tonbo'd made. "Now look at you. Just back home for one day and already you're making a mess."

"...thank you. That was unspeakably helpful. Could I get a name? Or shall I assume it's Ibiki?"

"Ibiki? That skinny tall kid you keep trying to bring home?" Kamakiri waved a hand. "That boy's scary. I bet he's going to be T&I's new head or something. And he most certainly isn't pretty. Don't you remember what Kouchuu said about him? 'Tall as a skeleton, going to fill out like a bear.' Or was it the other way round?"

Tonbo shrugged. "One of those. And he isn't scary. Mostly. If you're on his good side. And looks certainly aren't everything, especially considering how very gifted he is in other areas."

"In freaking out everyone? Yeah. And he's most definitely not a pretty face." Kamakiri made a face. "But it's most definitely not Ibiki. Though I suppose you'd have to ask your fiance if you want to continue seeing Ibiki. Never figured you for the poly type though. More the slut."  
"Which is exactly why I'm not getting married. Being a slut and all. So who is this guy, anyway?" Tonbo thwapped the nearest bit of Kamakiri, which happened to be Kamakiri's thigh.

"Ew, keep your sticky paws off me," Kamakiri shifted away. "Brat. You know him already. It's real convenient that he's your roommate."  
Again, Tonbo waited for the punchline. Or at least a 'just kidding'. Considering that Kamakiri was obviously mentally incompetent and had trouble speaking properly, Tonbo graciously gave him a full minute and a half of silence in which to contradict himself.

"...What."

"Your fiance is one Hijiri Shimon," Kamakiri said. Sheesh, the brat acted like he had so many roommates, he couldn't keep track of them at all. "Your roommate. You know, that best friend of yours from the Academy?"  
"What," he repeated, for sheer lack of anything else to say.

Shimon. It was...there was no way. How could he possibly be engaged to Shimon? It was like the entire universe was trying to think of ways to kick him in the teeth.

"Shimon? Pretty guy, longish hair? Now he's sixteen, your roommate?" Kamakiri repeated, patiently. "Gee, all your blood going down south, Tonbo?"

"...I have decided something," Tonbo announced after a long period of stunned silence. "The only way to end your filthy lies is to kill you. Get over here so I can strangle you."

"I'm not gonna touch your Shimon." Kamakiri laughed slightly. "You don't need to worry 'bout me. But maybe Kouchuu. He's quite taken with his pretty face."

Tonbo growled and smacked him with the pillow. "You can have him."

"Ma would kill me if I stole your fiance, little brother." Kamakiri caught the pillow. "Maah, I'm going now to leave you in rapturous joy about it."

"How about you cut off my balls? I'd be about as happy."

Kamakiri just laughed, and ruffled Tonbo's hair, and left.

***

Shimon was tired of doing work, work, and nothing but work. Which was why he was back home with his father, thinking of planning to bring some of his less fancy papers over to his apartment, so he'd have something else to do besides forge handwriting. To say that he was surprised at the topic over dinner conversation was an understatement.

"I am what?"

"Engaged," Hijiri Shijun repeated.

"That is not possible," Shimon said, forcing himself to kneel properly again. "I am not engaged. I would have known. And we are not that influential or rich a family that we do that sort of thing. We are not even nobles, Father."

"Your fiance is the son of a family friend," Shijun said by way of explanation. "And you didn't know because neither of you were to be told until you were both of age."

"...Well obviously none of you were expecting a child of the union, are you, Father?"

He looked faintly sheepish. "We weren't expecting the children to be of the same sex, actually."

Shimon just looked at him. "Father, they do have ultrascans, you know, even before I was born."

His look turned even more sheepish. "I know. We thought you were a girl."

Shimon's gaze froze. "...That was one instance of underestimation I most certainly did not expect." That was almost hilarious, if it hadn't ended with him being engaged to some random boy he didn't know. "Who is it?"

"Luckily, you already know him. I gather that he's your roommate."

"Tobitake Tonbo?" Never mind hilarious. Fate wanted to kill him. "Father, that is impossible."

He shook his head. "It's very possible. That's the one."

"But we dislike each other intensely, Father! I can't stand him!"

His father frowned slightly. "That's a shame. I'm sure you two can work out your differences, though."

Shimon considered saying, 'He beats me when he gets the chance!' but that sounded far too much like spousal abuse, and Shimon could fight back himself - he just didn't want to, not when Tonbo was a handicapped, blind cripple - Tonbo's words, not his.

"We are far too unalike, Father," Shimon said finally, plaintively. "And they don't accept this sort of thing, do they? Legally?"

"Whyever would they not? It's all perfectly legal."

"We are two men, Father. We can't..." Shimon groped for the words. There was just no possible way that they managed to get the paperwork through to the Hokage, especially since Shimon was most emphatically not female. In any sort of persuasion.

"I am very aware of that, and it's still legal. Such things do actually happen, you know. Men marrying each other, I mean."

"But Father...!" Shimon nearly slammed his chopsticks on the table, so distraught and emotional was he. "I abhor him!"

Shijun raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

"Because he's detestable," Shimon said. "Utterly and totally detestable. Revolting, even. Father, I will not marry him."

"Shimon, I'm sure he isn't as bad as you're making him out to be. What has he done to make you so very emotional?"

"I'm not emotional," Shimon said, forcing himself to settle down again. "He's... He's just detestable. Abhorrant. I don't like him at all. Father, if you had to interact with him for more than five minutes yourself, you would understand."  
"Hmm...I'll have to test that, then."

Shimon didn't quite stab his rice with the points of his chopsticks. "If you wish to," he murmured.

***

Shimon took a deep breath, highly aware of the scroll tucked securely in his sleeve. His father had spoken to Tonbo the previous day, and came back to tell him that 'Tonbo-kun' was a perfectly well-mannered young man, with only some eccentricities. All his brothers were pleased to extoll his virtues, privately, and Tonbo himself would be a calming influence on Shimon's highly-strung character.

Shimon had nearly choked to death on the broiled fish.

So now Shimon was in front of the Tobitake residence, calmly about to knock on the door, forcing the urge to pull out his fan from his sleeve and fidget. No, he must be perfectly calm and mature, and show Tonbo's parents that they could not get married.

He knocked.

Kouzanchou wasn't expecting anyone. None of her sons had said anything about inviting anyone over, and they didn't recieve random visitors too very often, so it was with some surprise that she got up and opened the door.

"Hello." She smiled at the young man standing there. "Who are you looking for?" He looked incredibly familiar, and she was sure she knew him. It was just at the edge of her mind, only she couldn't quite put her finger on it...

"Tobitake-san?" Shimon said, smiling in return. "I was... looking for you and your husband? I'm Hijiri Shimon..."

"Come in, Shimon-kun." She escorted him inside and directed him to sit on the couch. "I thought you looked familiar. You're the spitting image of your father, you know. What was it that you needed?"

Shimon just smiled at her, sitting on the couch and folding his hands on his knees. "I just came about the matter of the engagement."

She settled down on the couch next to him. "Oh, that? You know, we were worried that it wasn't going to work out, with you two both being boys and all. I'm glad it did, though. WHat was it you wanted to talk about about it?"

Shimon blinked at her for a moment. "...How can it work out with the both of us being... male?"

She paused for a moment, thinking of a way to phrase it politely. "Well, as it turns out, neither of you is exactly too very interested in women, so..."

"I'm perfectly interested in women," Shimon said, spreading his hand on his knee. "I'm pansexual." Which most certainly did not include Tonbo in the spectrum.

The fact that he hadn't dated a woman yet was not the point. He hadn't met a girl he liked in that manner yet, of course.

Kouzanchou raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but didn't argue. "Not exclusively interested in women, I should have said. And if I recall, you two were friends back in the Academy, so you already know each other and get along."

"... We weren't friends," Shimon said, delicately smoothing his kimono over his knee. "Just mere acquaintances."

"If you got along back then, I'm sure you can now." She smiled encouragingly. "Ton-kun's a bit touchier than he used to be, but you really don't seem like the antagonistic type, so I'm sure it won't be a problem." From what she'd heard from Shijun, the boy was the very model of politeness.

Shimon coughed quietly. "...Not antagonistic," he agreed, not quite weakly. He straightened. "Nonetheless, we are hardly suited to each other. And he has... I believe, other interests."   
She cocked her head curiously. "What do you mean, exactly?"

Telling Tonbo's mother that he'd walked in on Tonbo having a... getting-to-know-you session with Ibiki on the living room couch - which he still couldn't use, by the way - was probably not very diplomatic. "He is... interested in other people, Tobitake-san," he said finally.  
"Oh, that?" She shook her head, looking slightly exasperated. "I'm afraid he's just...well, to be perfectly honest, he's a bit of a slut." More than a bit, really, but Shimon-kun didn't need any details about her youngest son's sexual exploits.

Shimon's cheeks coloured slightly at that. "Then he won't be happy in a marriage," he tried.

"Some monogamy would be good for him."

Shimon exhaled. Obviously, then Tonbo's parents were of the opinion that this marriage was good for Tonbo. Perhaps it would be for Tonbo, since it would involve him getting beaten up.

So. He would have to use his trump card. He shifted. "Well, Tobitake-san, I suppose that might be so for Tonbo-kun... however, I noticed several irregularities in the engagement documents. May I see your copy?"

"Sure. Just a moment." She got up to go get it, not quite frowning. Irregularities...? When they'd had the documents drawn up, everything had been fine. Though it was possible that they could have missed something. Evidently they had, if what Shimon was saying was right...

She returned with the documents and handed them to Shimon. "Here."

Shimon took them with a slight bow, the movement covering his slight of hand as he switched the scroll with his own. He unrolled it, scanning it quickly. "Here, Tobitake-san," he said, pointing to the first paragraph. "And here... several problems with the wording. Minor, but overall it renders the document invalid."

She examined it, brow wrinkling slightly. "...Well. I don't know how we missed that when we drew them up, but...you're right."

Shimon looked regretful. "Indeed. I pointed it out to my father, and he agreed. Hence, this engagement is invalid."

"That is a problem." She thought for a moment, tapping her finger on the scroll. "There's no need to be so disappointed, Shimon-kun. Even if the documents aren't valid, we can still go through with it."

Shimon blinked at her. "But..!"

His acting was too good, he realised with a sweep of cold horror. Now he had to figure out another... oh who was he trying to fool? He couldn't think of anything else!

She blinked back. "But what? It's no problem at all, really."

"...We... I mean. We don't have to... I mean." 

She smiled. "Honestly. I don't want you to be disappointed, and I know Ton-kun's looking forwards to it." Even though everything he said about it was entirely to the contrary. Well, that was Tonbo. The fact that he got so very emotional about Shimon was proof enough that there was something between them, and the line between love and hate was very thin indeed. A few good nudges could nicely smudge it up.

Tonbo? Looking forward to it? That man was one sick... Shimon swallowed down what he really wanted to say and smiled instead. "... Indeed. I... Thank you for your time, Tobitake-san. I... I need to go now." And plan. And try and come up with something.  
"Alright. Have a nice night, Shimon-kun."

Shimon bowed, and left.

***  
The next time Shimon came to Tonbo's house, he was looking for Tonbo.

Tonbo was not informed of this, however, so when he heard someone knocking on his door, he just assumed it was a brother. That, combined with a good dose of laziness, was why he didn't bother even attempting to tidy up--or put out the joint he was smoking and open a window--before calling for whoever it was to come in.

Shimon stared a moment, before coughing and backing out, the smoke irritating his nose. So this was why their apartment smelled...

That didn't sound like either of his brothers. They normally complained at him about it, too, rather than coughing at him.

After a moment of concentration--a longer moment than normal, but that was because being buzzed screwed it up--he managed to turn on his chakra-sensing. "...The hell are you doing here?"

"What on earth are you doing with the air?" Shimon coughed into his hand, trying not to choke. "That smell is absolutely foul."

Tonbo took a deep drag on the joint, exhaling in Shimon's general direction. "'M not doing anything with the air. You can't smoke air."

Shimon choked, and backed away. "If you don't stop that, Tonbo, I'm going to set you on fire," Shimon said. That would be an improvement.

Tonbo sniffed at him. "You needa relax. Touchy bastard." After a moment of consideration, he held the blunt out to Shimon. "Should try it."

Shimon made a delicate face at him, shooing his hand away. "No. Sit up, Ton-kun. We need to talk."

Tonbo sat up, leaning back against the wall, and shrugged. "S'your loss. About what?"

Shimon wished he had a handkerchief, or something similar to breathe through, instead he sat on the edge of the bed, breathing shallowly. But after a while, the smell seemed to fade - his body adjusting to it, he supposed. "About our 'engagement'."

Tonbo blinked at him for a moment. "...Our who? Oh, yeah, that thingie. What about it?"

"Our engagement. We need to dissolve it." Shimon explained patiently. "I've tried speaking to your parents... Tonbo, are you even listening?"

Because the other man looked like he wasn't even paying attention to the current plane of existence, let alone Shimon.

"Yeah, yeah, 'm listening." It wasn't like he could not, with Shimon jabbering right in his ear like that... He waved a hand at Shimon. "Engagement. S'bad. Something about my parents. Go on?"

Shimon inhaled deeply, and his exhalation was sharp with annoyance. "I said, I tried to talk to your parents. Your mother is intensely sure that you would benefit from monogamy. And I tried telling them that their documents were invalid, and she said we would go ahead with it anyway." Shimon blinked, turning to look at Tonbo, and was overcome with vertigo for a moment. For the briefest of instances, the room seemed elongated and flat, then it was gone, back into sharp perception. "Come up with something, Ton-kun," he said.

Tonbo was silent for a long while, brow furrowed in thought. Finally, he leaned forwards, patting up Shimon's arm until he could rest a hand on the other teen's shoulder. "I have," he declared, "a solution. And it's sure to work, too. Because I am just great like that."

Shimon shivered at the touch - it was too warm, too large, but he could not pull away. A sort of... languour had fallen over him, making him want to relax against that arm instead. He shook his head, taking deep breaths to concentrate. "What plan?"

Tonbo squeezed Shimon's shoulder, thumb stroking at an exposed sliver of soft, warm skin just above the collar of his shirt. "You...thingie. Go drown yourself. That way, everyone wins." Except Shimon, of course, but who cared about him?

Shimon frowned. "That's not an acceptable plan. Why don't you go commit suicide instead?"

The way that thumb was... rubbing at his skin, was a rather tingly sensation, intense, nice... No, it was more than nice.

He could feel Shimon's pulse under his thumb, rushing hot and fast underneath his skin. It was almost like he could feel the other boy's heartbeat, drumming in regular intervals up through his hand. "'Cause. I've spent too much effort on living to die. Would waste it all."

Shimon shifted, the movement incidently making Tonbo's fingers catch at his collar, and he gasped softly at the increased contact. Tonbo's fingers were warm. "... Would be an improvement," he murmured, closing his eyes a moment. He could almost see Tonbo, behind his eyelids, in sharp relief, and he had to put his hands down, one on the bed the other on Tonbo's knee, to feel steady again.

Strangely enough, it was... so warm. Warm and relaxing, his bones felt like they were melting, warm and slow and molten, so he shifted closer, closer to the warm source.

Tonbo slid his fingers down udner Shimon's shirt, stroking over the raised bumps of his collarbone, dipping down into the hollow of his throat. Shimon had such smooth skin,and Tonbo could read the contours of his bones under that warm skin like braille. There wasn't actually any message hidden in Shimon's bones, though, although he almost felt like there would be if he thought about it enough. "Not for me."

"Would for me." Shimon inhaled steadily, and suddenly - or was it slowly? he wasn't too sure - he was pressed against Tonbo, head curled on the other's shoulder, all but purring at the feel of fingers down his shirt, stroking at his skin, trailing lazy-fire-licks along his throat, his chest. "Mmm."  
Tonbo almost wanted to protest the fact that Shimon had just melted against him, if only for the principle of the matter, but he always enjoyed the feeling of another warm body pressed to his. Even if it was Shimon. So instead of pushing Shimon away, he wrapped his other arm around the boy's waist, lazily rubbing at the small of his back, tracing the knobs of his spine through his shirt and skin.

"'M out-voting you."

Shimon arched a little against the touch, it was warm, and very nice, marvellous, perhaps, more than tingling, and very very pleasant. He wriggled against him, just a little, nuzzling the crook of Tonbo's neck. "Can't. Think of something else."

The feeling of Shimon's breath washing over his collar made Tonbo shiver slightly. "...Thingie?"

Shimon shivered, shifting and purring and closing his eyes, because if he kept looking, Tonbo's skin was so. So very tasty looking... The tip of his tongue peeked out anyway, and tasted him tentatively. Mmm. Salty. Skin-tasting skin.

"Mm, Shi-kun..." Tonbo tilted his head to the side, baring his neck for Shimon, fingers bunching up the fabric of his shirt. He smoothed it out, fingers rubbing out the little wrinkles. The shirt was rougher than Shimon's skin, the tiny fibers catching on his fingertips while his other hand slid smoothly over Shimon's chest. He could almost feel each individual little strand, all woven tight together, but still loose and thin enough to allow the warmth of Shimon's body to seep through.

Shimon moaned, licking a little more. The taste was very nice. Salty and just a hint of masculinity - or at least what he thought was masculinity. And the texture of skin, beneath his tongue, was soothing if he kept repeating it. Which was an all-win situation for him. He writhed a little, feeling the press of Tonbo's fingers, warm and heady, against his chest. In fact, his clothing was a little too warm.

Such a good thing he was wearing just the turtle-neck and dark pants version of the uniform - the genin version if one was inclined to uniforms.

Tonbo pushed Shimon's shirt up, bunching it up under his ribs, and skimmed his fingers over the bared strip of back, then over his side and stomach. The shirt was pulled up more as Tonbo stroked up Shimon's side, carefully mapping out every little bump of Shimon's ribs under his skin with his fingers.

"Do I taste nice, Shi-kun?"

"Mm," Shimon agreed, starting to purr as he shifted against Tonbo, slowly undulating. 

"'M glad." Tonbo tugged at Shimon's shirt, pushing it up to his shoulders. "Should take this off."

"Mmm..." Shimon shifted, wrigging a little, somehow ending up in Tonbo's lap, and using the friction of Tonbo's shirt to roll his own shirt up and off.  
Tonbo's fingers thoroughly explored Shimon's bared torso, tracing over the contours of bone and muscle and thin scars. He thumbed one of Shimon's nipples, rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger.

Shimon mewled, arching and writhing against him, still melted and purring in his lap. "T-ton-kun..."  
This was probably not the best time for Kamakiri to walk in. "Hey, Tonbo, Ma was wondering if Shimon-kun was gonna... Fuck, you're molesting him already?" 

"Technically," Tonbo pointed out, "Shi molested me first. Go away."

"Did not," Shimon said, trying to sit up, but he ended up rubbing himself against TOnbo instead. Which felt very pleasurable. So he kept doing that.  
"... You drugged him with your pot and now you're molesting him? Tonbo, I didn't know you were this reprehensible." Kamakiri waded in, wrinkling his nose at the smell, and shoved open a window. "You really shouldn't be fucking him before your wedding."

"Didn't drug him," Tonbo protested. "S'not my fault he breathed." He wriggled slightly against Shimon, not quite squirming.

"He can't very well stop breathing!" Kamakiri stalked over to the bed, arms akimbo on his hips. "You're going to ruin his reputation like that, Tonbo. Shimon-kun, are you ... you're high."

"Am not," Shimon didn't quite slur, nuzzling Tonbo's neck.

Tonbo laughed, running his fingers through Shimon's hair. "Shi-kun, you're totally baked. Kama, I don't care about his reputation."

"What?" They both said to his words.

"How can you not care about your fiance?" Kamakiri said, outraged.

"My reputation? What...?" Shimon pushed away, swaying slightly.

"How many times've I said I don't like him?" Tonbo leaned forwards, kissing the side of Shimon's mouth. "S'a good little slut, though, once he's all relaxed. Should get like this more often, Shi-kun."

"What?"

Kamakiri could feel the temperature drop in the room, and it most certainly wasn't from the open window.

Shimon shoved away with more force, his voice glacial and clipped. "Do you care to repeat what you just said, Tonbo?"

Had he been in full possession of all his faculties, Tonbo would have noticed Shimon's tone and--possibly--stopped talking. At the very least, he would have considered the possible ramifications of his words, considering how very petty Shimon was.

Being high as he was, though, he didn't pause to think about it. "Said you're a good slut. All warm and soft and squirming like that, and so willing to take off your clothes." He ran his fingers down Shimon's bare chest. "And nice to touch."

Kamakiri winced as Shimon, with exaggerated care, pushed Tonbo's hand off him, and slid off the bed. Kamakiri hurriedly handed him his shirt. "Shimon-kun, he didn't mean..."

"I'm sure he meant every word," Shimon said, turning to give him a coldly polite bow. "Tobitake-san."

"Kamakiri, please call me Kama," Kamakiri said. "Tonbo doesn't think..."

"He meant every word, Kamakiri-san," Shimon said, pulling it on, only swaying slightly. His will was the only thing keeping him upright. "I will remember this, Tonbo."

"That supposed to be a threat?" Tonbo snorted. "What're you gonna do, priss at me?"

Waving at tonbo was a useless gesture. It didn't stop the utterly freezing glance Shimon turned on Tonbo. "Tell Tobitake-san that I appreciate her offer," Shimon said, to Kamakiri. "But I will not be staying."

He ignored any further efforts to patch it up by Kamakiri, and swept out of the house.

Tonbo was going to pay dearly for this.


	7. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonbo was not feeling well.
> 
> He hadn't been feeling very good all week, really, but he'd managed to convince himself it was just tiredness or whatever he'd last eaten disagreeing with him most of the time. Certainly he wasn't thinking about being sick.

Tonbo was not feeling well.

He hadn't been feeling very good all week, really, but he'd managed to convince himself it was just tiredness or whatever he'd last eaten disagreeing with him most of the time. Certainly he wasn't thinking about being sick.

Anyway, even if he was sick, it wasn't serious. Just the flu, or a cold, or something. And he wasn't thinking at all about the last time he'd thought he just had the flu or something, because having a nervous breakdown over something so very trivial was very definitely unmanly.

Whatever it was, it wasn't just a lack of sleep. Lack of sleep didn't make him feel like his brain was trying to crawl out of his skull, nor did it make him feel quite so nauseous.

So probably just a cold, or something like that. Maybe there was something going around.

It--mostly--wasn't interfering with his ability to do his job, so he was fine, anyway.

"Hey," Akira said, leaning over to poke at him. "You look like you're about to keel over into your notes. Are you alright?" Yeah, interrogation transcripts sucked big time to analyse, like why and how this technique got that out of the prisoner, or something, but Tonbo looked like it was going to kill him.   
Tonbo groaned and swatted at him. He opened his mouth to answer, paused for a moment, and then said, faintly, "Excuse me." before getting up, calmly walking over to the nearby trashcan, and proceeding to bend over it and vomit what felt like several major organs.

The smell of blood and rot that met him was distressingly familiar. But it couldn't be that. His medication made sure of that; it helped fight off any remaining pockets of the disease still in remission, so he didn't relapse. And he made sure not to forget to take it, considering how very unpleasant nearly dying the first time had been. So it couldn't be...

"Tonbo?" Megumi asked, coming up behind him. "Ton... oh shit! Akira! Get the medics! Get someone now!"  
Akira was gone, his face pale, without further prompting, the slap of his sandals echoing down the hall.

Tonbo raised his head, gagging slightly and wiping his mouth with the back of his head. "Don't need a medic. 'M fine."

Felt kind of like someone was pounding a stake into his stomach and head, but otherwise fine. A headache did not constitute a medical emergency.

"You're throwing up blood," Megumi said, holding him up, glancing around. "Why is Akira taking so fucking long?"  
A cold thrill of horror shot through him at that. His health over the past few days was perfectly mirroring what'd happened last year, and THAT had landed him in the hospital for nearly a month. But it couldn't be. Not unless there was something wrong with his medication, which was highly unlikely. The only people who even had any access to it were himself and the pharmacists. And Shimon, Tonbo supposed, though there wasn't any reason why he'd want to mess with it.

"Am I really?" he asked weakly. "Well. Fuck."

"And possibly organs too," Megumi said, leaning over to take a look. "Well. I didn't know spleens looked like that. Maybe it's because it's rotting?"

And then there was the sound of running feet.

"In here," Akira's voice floated from the hallway outside the library. "Honest, I don't know what happened, we were just talking and then he looked sick and then--"

Then there was even measured steps that medic-nin took, and a calm soothing aura projected several feet in front of them in order to soothe frightened, jumpy, hair-trigger shinobi. "Tobitake-san? Medical-nin. We hear..."

"...We should get you to the Hospital at once, Tobitake-san."

Foreign hands replaced Megumi's, and hoisted him up gently.

"'M fine," Tonbo protested. There was no way he could be sick again. Not like that.

"No you're not," Akira said, voice shrill. "You were throwing up blood! And stuff! And stinky things that looked like kidneys!"

"...I ate something weird?" he tried.

"Something which shreds your stomach lining?" Megumi put in drily.

"Please keep away," one of the medics said, carefully bagging the contents of the rubbish bin. "Decom the area," he spoke into his head-set, "And you two would have to go in for observation."

"Wha--?" Akira said, as Megumi just nodded. "Alright, now?"

"Yes. Tobitake-san has to go in for emergency treatment--" They were already shouldering him onto a hastily summoned gurney "-- and he might be contagious. Please follow Kenshin-san." He indicated another white-clad medic.

***

Shimon closed his book, glancing to the kitchen clock. Tonbo wasn't back yet. Shimon kept a close watch on Tonbo's schedule, mostly so he could minimise interaction with him, while maximising time spent in his own room and his own flat. Intel was very kind in providing them with cheap independent housing, but this housing was still paid for with his own private funds. The rent was low, compared to similar apartments in similar neighbourhoods, but it was still rent. So it was his place as much as it was Tonbo's, sadly enough. And Tonbo wasn't going to come back, apparently.

He placed his book on the table, and started pulling things from the refrigerator to start to prepare a late lunch. Well. Perhaps Tonbo was dead somewhere, he thought with a certain sense of relish. It would certainly be enjoyable. Having the apartment to himself... On the other hand, Tonbo paid half the rent.

Shimon sighed. Sometimes one had to live with evil. Hopefully they'd survive the however many years they had to live together, and then Shimon could get his own apartment elsewhere.

He was chopping vegetables for soup when he heard a pecking at the window. "Mm?" He went over to slide the kitchen window open, and a glossy black magpie cawed at him.

"Intel!" it said. "Daiki summonses you."

Shimon frowned. "Now?" It was his day off, and he'd never seen an Intel messenger bird this close outside of the one time he had been shown the birds in the Intel mews.

"Now, now, now," the bird cawed impatiently, ruffling its wings with a dry rustle. Then it took off, after leaving a white mess on the sill.

"Ew," Shimon said, going in to change into the Intel uniform.

***

Shimon was all bewildered innocence and nerves as he walked into Daiki’s office. No one was actually called into the man’s office unless it was a serious thing; Daiki was more likely to go to his subordinates’ workstations if he needed to tell them something, or send them a memo to meet in an interview or one of the smaller meeting rooms if it had to be private.

“Daiki-san?” Shimon asked, movements small and demure, the exact picture of surprise and the slight keel of nerves one had when meeting a department head. Keisuke said that he’d grow out of it, once he got used to being in Intel long enough, but for now, Daiki was still someone to be in awe of.

"Sit down, Shimon-kun.” Daiki didn’t look up from his paperwork until Shimon carefully sat down on the only other chair opposite Daiki’s desk. He didn’t quite perch, but sat there primly, back straight, hands folded on his lap. One really didn’t want to touch anything in one’s Head’s office without due course, and as Intel agents knew, fingerprints and any sort of identifying trait was something to be even more careful of.

Shimon waited for him to be ready to speak; while waiting, he discretely scanned the room. It was as bland and mild as the man before him, and it was just slightly intimidating for its mildness. Long floor-to-ceiling cabinets in dark wood lined two adjacent walls, the other was a pale blue-washed empty wall. Against that plain wall were several desks, and drawers, and a single recliner that obviously hadn’t been used much.

Shimon finished surveying the room – there really wasn’t much to look at, since Daiki’s desk dominated the office – and glanced back to meet Daiki’s dark eyes. He swallowed discreetly.

“Shimon-kun.” Daiki tapped a finger on a thin manila folder, seemingly absentmindedly. Only, from what Shimon had observed, Daiki didn’t do anything absentmindedly. In fact, he doubted that any of the Heads did anything without at least two hours of forethought. “Well and interestingly done,” he said, voice mild and without inflection, “but don’t you think you went a little too far?”

Shimon blinked blankly at him. He did not even get what Daiki had said, so he just said, “Sir?”

Daiki gave him a slightly sharper look. “Please don’t try to equivocate, Shimon-kun. You were good. But we are better.”

“Better, sir?” Shimon let his expression look puzzled. Indeed, it was not even much of a lie. What on earth was Daiki talking about? “Of course you’re better than I am, sir.”

Daiki’s thick eyebrows rose just a fraction. “You make a good sycophant, Shimon-kun. Alas, you can’t lie to save your life, not here, not in Intel.”

Shimon stayed silent, slightly stung by the mild insult, and trying to think of what Daiki could be thinking of. He glanced over to the tapping finger, and saw the simple kanji written on the tab. Tobitake Tonbo.

His fingers tightened on his lap.

“Indeed,” Daiki said, voice grave. “Tobitake Tonbo. Your switching of his medication has cost him dearly, indeed.”

“Cost…?” Shimon did not react, though he felt his heart rate speed up slightly. “I… Daiki-san, I didn’t do anything to his medication.”

Daiki just opened the folder, and started flipping through the pages. “You hid your traces very well, for a rookie. Pretty little forged note, bearing a nice medical chakra signature. One of the paper slips are missing too, but from a stack assigned to Koshin. Ink and supplies… well. Even I have to admit that that would be untraceable – you didn’t even use the ones we use to track our own forgeries, but a common inkwell, probably from the Hospital.” He glanced back up. “But Security and I can certainly track it all the way back to you. Shimon-kun.” 

Shimon blinked, and inhaled, slowly, letting the air out in a steady stream. “Daiki-san. I did not do it. I did not hurt Tonbo in any way.” He let his honesty ring true.

“Indeed, you did not. You physically did not.” Daiki’s faint smile looked grim. “Very well, Shimon-kun. If you do not admit it, of your own free will, I shall have to turn you over to Kaede-san to extract the confession. She will be perfectly happy to do so, especially it was one of her operatives that has been… put out of commission, as it were.”

Dead, his tone didn’t say.

“Kaede-san…?” Shimon did turn pale at that. “But, Daiki-san… I didn’t…!”

“Shimon-kun, you have a count of five to admit it.”

“Daiki-san!”

“Five.”

Shimon’s lips quivered, and he clenched his fingers into a fist. “Honestly, Daiki-san, I didn’t! Please, please believe me! I wouldn’t… I didn’t…!”

“Four.”

Tears were starting to prick at Shimon’s eyes. “Daiki-san! Please…!”

***

Hideyoshi didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “He looks the very picture of injured innocence,” he mused.

Kaede frowned slightly. “He’s a much better actor than I would have expected,” she murmured. She pulled out his file again, scanning his psych profile. “Psych’s screwed up again, I bet. He should be in my department, not Records, and certainly not wasting his mind in Forgery.”

“Hmm.” Hideyoshi leaned forward, just the slightest fraction of a tilt to his profile. “Shimon wouldn’t break unless before T&I.”

“Of course not,” Kaede didn’t quite snort. “Someone who’d scheme up something like this would believe he’s innocent right until the very end. Hmm. Still, he’s just a rookie.” She flicked on her ear piece, tuning it. “Iwana. You have the privilege of breaking Shimon-kun there. I’m timing you.”

***

Daiki had just reached one, and Shimon was in a flood of innocent, protesting tears.

“Daiki-san, please, I honestly didn’t do it,” he pleaded, all but begging him. “I wouldn’t do it, you know I wouldn’t, please, believe me…!”

Before Daiki could respond, someone knocked on the doorframe.

“Daiki-san. Shimon-kun is to come with me,” said the man in the doorway. Shimon glanced over, and recognized him as the man who’d stopped his and Tonbo’s fight in the Orientation talk. He looked the same as every other Intel personnel – bland, mild, for all that his eye-patch should have lent a piratical skew to his face.

“Daiki-san!” Shimon appealed one last time.

“You had your chance,” Daiki said, voice gentling just a little. “Go with Iwana.”

Shimon sniffed, hand to his mouth, as the T&I agent came over.

“Come with me, Shimon-kun.” Iwana dropped a heavy hand on Shimon's shoulder and led him down to the lower levels, into one of the interrogation rooms. It was bare of both jutsu and any sort of furnishings, save for a chair in the middle.

Once Shimon had been sat down and the attached manacles had been closed around his wrists and ankles, Iwana left the little room. "I'm going to go ask Kaede-san what she wants me to do," he told the boy, just before closing the door.

Shimon blinked, and curled his fingers into fists, then relaxed. He hadn't admitted anything. He hadn't done it. It wasn't his fault. He didn't do it.

The lightbulb was flickering, up over him, making his eyes water slightly. A bare, tungsten glaring thing of a lightbulb. He shut his eyes, breathing evenly, and let his hair fall into his face. In the soft dark behind his eyes, he focused on his breathing.

Even. Even, soft breathing. Just... waiting, waiting for them to come back. He wouldn't break, not from this. And he hadn't done it.

A good liar and a good shinobi could wipe something from their minds if they just believed it. Believed it strong enough that it became true, and nothing else and no one else could convince them otherwise.

So.

Shimon became aware of the faint, slight buzzing. Was it the hum of still air in a closed room?

A closed room. No. No. It wasn't... His eyes opened again, blinking, exhaling in a sudden efflux of air at the sight - sight! - of his knees, his cuffed wrists, the floor. Tilting his head, he could see the walls. Far away from him. Honestly far away. It was a room. Not... not... Just a room.

The sound again. No. Don't listen to the sound, just his own breathing... what was that sound anyway? He glanced up, just in time to see the bulb flicker, once, the hum dying slightly.

Not air. The buzz of the lamp, the filament fizzing and buzzing.

He had to focus on his breathing, keep his breathing calm and even and measured. Kaede-san was tolerable. He could take it.

Iwana leaned against the wall outside the room, tapping out the passing seconds on the wall with his heel. Ten minutes, he decided. He'd leave SHimon in there for ten minutes, and then come back.

His fingers idly played over the lightswitch next to him, and then he flicked it down, extinguishing the light in the little room.

According to his file, Shimon was claustrophobic, and afraid of dark small spaces especially. So a few minutes of being trapped in that stuffy closet, while the light flickered on and off completely at random...

Shimon was starting to hyperventilate. The buzzing of the bulb kept cutting off at random, trying to count the seconds was constantly interrupted by the buzzing, and the walls kept coming closer. Closer and darker, and everytime the light went off, he could swear they were pressing in against him, suffocatingly dark and solid.

He was pulling at his wrists, not quite whimpering, the soreness in his wrists and ankles something minor and inconsequential compared to the fact that he was suffocating, choking in the small tight space...

He whimpered, feeling cold threads of tears sliding from his face. Was it tears? Or sweat? He didn't know.  
He'd break soon.

Iwana could hear the boy's thin, high, panicked breathing through the wall, could hear him whimpering and the slight clank as he pulled at the manacles.

He kept it up for a few more minutes, keeping the light off for the last sixty seconds before flipping the switch on and pulling the door open.

"I've spoken to Kaede-san. You know," he said conversationally, "she's not particularly happy about this. About what happened to Tonbo-kun, I should say, since she's more than pleased to see you getting yours." He didn't bother coming up with a lie about what he was to do. Shimon's imagination would be more than adequate in coming up with that. "So, Shimon-kun, tell me...Do you want to confess right now? And save yourself any future unpleasantness?"  
Shimon glanced up at him, eyes wet and large. "...Please..." He didn't want to stay here in the dark, not anymore. Nothing more could be worse than the dark, other than Iwana doing a strip-tease and doing horrendous things to a clone henge'd into Daiki-san, though that mental image only made him whimper more.

"... I didn't mean to," Shimon said instead, voice broken.

Iwana raised an eyebrow. "Shimon-kun, how can you accidentally tamper with someone's medication?"

The boy looked so teary and frightened. Good. It wouldn't take too very long, then.

"I didn't mean for him to die," Shimon whispered, voice gone soft, shuddering as he bit his lip. "I... he wasn't supposed to die!"

"What was supposed to happen, Shimon-kun?" Iwana didn't confirm or deny his theory that Tonbo was dead. From what he'd heard, the boy was still alive. Not exactly in the best condition, but not dead yet.

It added more pressure if Shimon thought he'd killed his roommate. A shinobi who killed one of his allies was immediately under suspicion of being a traitor, and would be severely penalized for his actions. Constant surveillance, imprisonment, even execution if enough evidence of wrongdoing turned up...

Shimon was sure to know that.

"...It was just a laxative," Shimon said, voice soft. Something that came in two components. The second component would have been added later, and given Tonbo the runs for perhaps a day or two. It wouldn't have killed him! All genin had undergone its usage!

"The problem isn't what you replaced it with," Iwana pointed out. "It's what you replaced. Did you not stop to think that perhaps he was taking medication for a reason? Such things are generally important."

"I..." Shimon swallowed. "I... I didn't... He. He wasn't... I hadn't meant to kill him!"

"You didn't think about it, Shimon-kun? A pity. I would expect someone who came up with such a clever plan to use his brain a little more and think of the consequences." Iwana circled around to stand behind Shimon, hands settled on the back of the chair. "He was sick recently, and taking that medication to keep from relapsing. But when you replaced it..." He trailed off. Shimon knew what had happened after that. That was why he was there, after all.

Shimon's breathing hitched, a swallowed sob. "...I didn't ... I'm not a murderer," he said, voice soft, so soft as to be nearly inaudible. "I didn't mean to..."

Iwana drummed his fingers on the back of the chair a moment before replying. "From what I can see, it was all incredibly well thought-out. You took care to hide your tracks, shift the blame away from yourself. You'll understand, I'm sure, why I have trouble believing that you didn't mean to, when all signs point to this being something you planned out extensively in advance. Not extensively enough, though, since you got caught. Now..." He tapped Shimon's shoulder. "Why did you do it? You still haven't given me a motive, and we can only assume the worst of a man who plots out how to hurt his allies."

The worst, of course, being that that man was a traitor. He didn't really believe that Shimon had any sort of hidden plot against Konoha, or that it was anything more than petty revenge gone wrong, but Shimon didn't need to know that. What Shimon needed to know was that he had hurt--had killed, or so he believed--his roommate and fellow operative, and that he was under a good deal of suspicion for those actions.

Shimon flinched sharply at the touch, and his sobbing was more audible. "... I... I'm not! I didn't... I'm not a traitor."

Oh gods. He hadn't meant to kill Tonbo. He... might have fantasized, but the man wasn't worth getting himself nearly incarcerated for. Or executed. "I... didn't mean to. I'm not a traitor. Please..." He twisted his face up, to Iwana. "Please. Please, believe me!"

Iwana looked down at him, face coldly impassive. "Shimon-kun, why did you do it? You still haven't told me. Only someone who had something to hide would refuse to tell why they did it. You're not helping your case."

Shimon's gaze flinched away from him, shuddering, his hair falling into his eyes, shielding him from Iwana's cold one-eyed gaze. "I..." He swallowed, the sound audible and forced in the small room. He could hear his own breathing, loud and irregular, almost panicky, masking Iwana's own. It was almost as if Iwana was nothing but a cold voice.

"I didn't... He i-insulted. M-me..."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Iwana let out a soft sigh. "Shimon-kun," he murmured, shaking his head and tsking slightly and generally looking the very picture of disappointment, "you would go so far over an insult? You're a very talented, clever young man, but you can't abuse those gifts. Such conduct is not befitting a Konoha shinobi, or an Intel operative. If you get caught doing something like this again, your punishment will be much more severe."

Shimon swallowed again, lips parting, panting slightly, breathing fast. "'m sorry," he sobbed softly. "He... he... c-called m' a slut..."

He hadn't meant to kill Tonbo over it, but he couldn't let that insult pass. It wasn't just an insult - it was something that he couldn't bear, it couldn't be borne, more than a smear on his character. It was saying that Tonbo thought he was nothing more than dirt, no more than a whore. Which he wasn't. From anyone else he would have broken their arms, perhaps, but from Tonbo he had to show him. Hurt him.

But he hadn't meant to kill him. "I.. I hadn't meant to kill him," he whispered. "'m sorry..."

Iwana continued regarding him emotionlessly for a moment, then let the cold facade drop. Shimon had admitted to it, admitted why, and he was obviously distraught. There'd be no point in messing with his head anymore.

As he bent over to unlock Shimon from the chair, Iwana told him, "He's not dead, you know. Not yet. And you better hope he stays that way, because if he does die..." They had a confession from Shimon that he had done it, cementing what they already knew as fact. If Tonbo really did die, Shimon would be in quite a bit of trouble, accident or not.

"...He's not?" Shimon looked up at him. "Oh gods."

Tonbo not dead. Shimon sagged, even as his hands and legs were freed. Not dead. He hadn't killed him yet. "...Where is he?"

Iwana tugged him to his feet and began steering him out of the room. "In the hospital."

Shimon barely managed not to lean on him, fingers digging into the other's forearm. "The hospital?"

He had to see that he was alive, with his own eyes.

Had to show he was really sorry.

Really.


	8. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamakiri rubbed his face, heaving a sigh. "Didn't expect this," he said to Hamushi, his brother as usual a quiet presence against the wall.
> 
> "Certainly not," Hamushi said quietly. Their little brother was lying on the only bed in the room, the beep of the machines in rhythm with the rise and fall of Tonbo's chest. "He should be waking soon."

Intel - Relapse

Kamakiri rubbed his face, heaving a sigh. "Didn't expect this," he said to Hamushi, his brother as usual a quiet presence against the wall.

"Certainly not," Hamushi said quietly. Their little brother was lying on the only bed in the room, the beep of the machines in rhythm with the rise and fall of Tonbo's chest. "He should be waking soon."

"Ah." Kamakiri exhaled, watched his brother's breathing shift.  
Though he was quite fond of sleeping, Tonbo didn't particularly like waking up. Normally, though, it wasn't so unpleasant.

The first thing he became aware of was that he was in pain. It would be an exaggeration to say that every single part of his body hurt; he was sure that there were parts that didn't. It was just that the ache pervading most of him managed to drown out any nicer sensations.

Then he heard the sounds, the whirr and beep of machines. Third came smell, clean, not quite sharp antiseptic. All of this was more familiar than he'd like to admit, and it pointed towards one thing: he was in the hospital. That was not a place he generally liked to be, even if he was only going for a checkup, and checkups didnt' result in waking up in a hospital bed, hurting, and hooked up to a variety of no doubt very important machines.

A brief moment of wondering what the hell had happened didn't turn up any results, other than a sort of foggy feeling of vague sickness. He sat up, or at least tried to. This endeavor resulted in making his arms quiver uselessly as they attempted to support him, and made him even more curious as to what, exactly, was the reason behind his being there.

"...The hell happened?" He didn't quite slur his words, but they were far weaker and less clear than he'd have liked. There was at least one other presence in the room, hovering at the edges of his awareness, so, unless they were mute, his question should recieve an answer. Which was good, because Tonbo hated not knowing things, and he had some nagging feeling this was a bit important. He also rather felt that he should know, but his brain was kind of fuzzy. How long had he been out, anyway?

"You got sick again," Kamakiri said, coming forward a bit. "How're you feeling, brat?"

Sick? Again? What... Oh. Just in time to be of no help whatsoever, his memory of the past few days returned. He'd been feeling shitty, and now he was in the hospital. Again.

Lovely. Tonbo wasn't sure he knew enough obscenities to express how he felt about that. He'd have to invent some new ones.

"I've been better."

"Ma was here two hours ago, then she had a mission, quick, C-rank," Hamushi said quietly, from his spot at the foot of the cot. "Da's still on that mission - he should be back tomorrow."

"Yeah." Kamakiri leaned forward, carefully ruffling Tonbo's hair. "You look like shit, man. Long hair's not your style."

"Kama. Man. I've been keeping away from this for a while, but...it's not yours either." Tonbo attempted to bat his brother's hand away, just barely managing to twitch his fingers. "They got me drugged or something?" It would certainly explain why everything felt so distant and foggy, although it wouldn't explain why he hurt. He preferred not to think that perhaps this was his state of being after painkillers. "Do I even want to know what I'm sick with?"

Kamakiri and Hamushi exchanged glances. "...Tonbo," Hamushi said slowly, "it's a relapse."

"And my girlfriend likes my hair," Kamakiri added.

Tonbo groaned slightly at Hamushi's words. "I would pay you to say 'just kidding', Kouchuu. And, Kama? S'because it's girly, an' she's a lesbian. The truth hurts."

Talking should not have been difficult. That was against the natural order of things. And...it hadn't been that long, either, unless he'd been out for a couple of days or something. Last time, he'd been more or less vaguely okay for a couple of weeks. Still able to talk without feeling like he was doing it with a mouthful of taffy, anyway. So probably he was drugged, or at least had been and was still feeling the effects.

"It costs us a whole lot to keep you in here for the treatments," Hamushi said. "You should pay us back."

Kamakiri sniffed, shoved Tonbo's leg aside, and sat on the bed. "He'll pay us back by getting better and out within the week. They caught it early, and it's a less virulent relapse, so you'll be back on your ugly feet soon enough. And if Mi-chan is a lesbian, she likes it with big strap-ons. It's good that I've got a natural one, yes?"

Tonbo directed the most regretful look he could manage towards Kamakiri. "You really don't. S'another one of those things no one's pointed out 'cause we can't bear to break your little heart." Out in a week. That sounded good. A week wouldn't screw up too very much of the progress he'd made in becoming a functioning human being again.

"And how would you know?" Kamakiri sniffed, and was about to say something when Tonbo suddenly convulsed, followed a split second later by the machines suddenly screaming at him.

"Medic!" Hamushi snapped, slapping at the intercom. "Room 15! Medic!"

Several medics rushed in, and, after a quick examination of Tonbo, shoved Kamakiri and Hamushi out to take care of him.

"... I think you spoke too soon," Hamushi said finally. "Jinxed him. I could almost believe that you did it on purpose, Kama."

"If I did, do you think he'd be still alive?"

"Good point."

***

When Shimon went to the hospital, it was only after his second visit before he was allowed into Tonbo's room. Apparently they'd had to spend half a day operating on his heart, or something of that sort, and another half day with chakra-force-fields that Shimon couldn't be bothered to understand, before he could see visitors. Shimon wonderd why none of his family was there, but perhaps they were busy, he thought diplomatically.

Or maybe they don't like him either. But that was not the sort of mind-set he wanted to have.

"Ton-kun?" he asked, softly, in the dim light of the room, the soft beeping of the machines just softer than the hiss of Tonbo's breathing nasal inhaler.

Tonbo looked...dead, actually. Shimon felt his heart in his mouth. Dead and pale, almost as white as the bandages around his torso and wrapped in the white hospital yukata, covered by white cotton hospital sheets. White and sickly, and most certainly pne foot in the grave.

Perhaps all of him, and he just hadn't realised he was dead yet.

Shimon took two steps forward. "Ton-kun?"

Tonbo stirred slightly at the sound of Shimon's voice, eyes fluttering half open, though it didn't do him much good. Just an automatic reaction, and he was so disoriented for a moemnt that he couldn't figure out why it was so very dark. He kept remembering and then forgetting again, his mind hazy and foggy and far away. Definitely drugged this time, though he was hardly in any state to realize it.

"Nngf?" he groaned in response. There was someoen in the room, that much he could tell, but he couldn't reach out with his chakra and feel for them.

"Ton-kun." Shimon reached out to touch his hand, but barely brushed his skin. He looked like he was about to die. "...Ton-kun, can you hear me?" 

It took a little, but he managed to bully his mouth into working well enough that he could croak out, "Who's it?" That voice sounded very familiar. Tonbo couldn't quite figure out whose it was, but it made him want to punch something. Preferably the owner of the voice, for some reason.

"Shimon," Shimon said, shifting to sit on the chair by the cot, managing to pat Tonbo's hand. "Ton-darling, how are you feeling?"

It was so odd to see Tonbo laid out and faded. It was practically a favour to him, if Shimon goaded him back to life, since Tonbo apparently got a kick out of being mean to everyone.

Shimon... Shimon, Shimon... Where did he know that name from? Ah, yes. Shimon. His bastard roommate who called him 'darling'. He was a bastard. Right.

Why the hell was Shimon visiting him? Didn't they hate each other? 

And why was Shimon, who he was sure was supposed to not like him, asking how he felt? For that matter, how did he feel? "...Cottony," Tonbo managed after a moment of thinking. Like his head was stuffed with it, like he was talking through it, and the room had that antiseptic cotton-ball smell that was so very hospital-ey. Which made sense, since he was in a hospital. His house didn't have so many things that went 'whirr' and 'beep'.

"It must be the painkillers," Shimon said softly, patting Tonbo's hand carefully, gently. "Ton-darling, I'm really so sorry."

Sorry...? What on earth was Shimon apologizing for? "F'what?" It couldn't just be sympathy, because, as he'd established earlier, Shimon hated him. It took him a little to remember things, but he certainly wasn't remembering the wrong things.

"Was my fault," Shimon said. "I'm very very sorry. How should I make it up to you, Ton-darling?"

The explanation was just as puzzling as his apology. What was his fault? What could Shimon possibly be talking abou--

Understanding dawned. He'd had a relapse, and the only way that could have happened was if someone messed with his medication. Shimon was one of the few people who had any sort of access to it, and he was admitting that he'd done it.

It was Shimon's fault he'd nearly died. Again.

Tonbo growled, twisting as best as he could and trying to reach for Shimon. Whether to punch him or choke him, Tonbo didn't know, but he fully intended to inflict obscene amounts of violence upon Shimon's person. The utter, utter bastard.

Unfortunately, after having endured hours of surgery and then being unconscious for several more hours, he was significantly weaker than a newborn kitten, and could only sort of wriggle uselessly. The growling kind of sounded like a kitten mewling, too, which made him even angrier, if that was possible.

Shimon caught his flailing hand - it wouldn't do for him to injure himself. Unnecessarily. He kissed the palm gently. "I'm ever so sorry, Ton-darling," he said contritely. "How should I try to apologise? Make up for this?"

Tonbo tried to smack Shimon, or at least claw his eyes out, or something. "Die," he suggested. "Bastard."

"I'm sorry," Shimon said. Ah, look, he was more lively now. Shimon upped the ante. "Ton-sama."

He did manage to smack Shimon, or at least flatten his hand against the other's cheek. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, or be anything more than a tap, really, but it was the thought that counted. "Hate you."

Shimon turned his face against the palm, nuzzling it gently. "You want this, Ton-sama?" he asked, guilelessly, earnestly. "If you want, Ton-sama, I will. Anything you wish for."

It was at that point that one of the medics came in. He surveyed the scene for a moment, then asked, "Shimon-san, please, don't..." He paused for a moment, thinking of a polite way to tell them not to have sex in the hospital bed. "Don't get him worked up. He needs to rest and heal."

Shimon looked up, and visibly started, before blushing and hurriedly dropping Tonbo's hand. "O-of course, sensei," he said, dropping his gaze, the very picture of guilty passion. "I w-wouldn't dream of w-working Ton-sama up..."

Tonbo snarled weakly. "S'not...he...hate you, Shi. Bastard." Was Shimon trying to give him a heart attack? Bastard. Tonbo almost hoped he DID die, if only so that Shimon got in trouble because of it.

"Ton-sama!" Shimon said, face falling and looking contrite and as if he was a puppy who'd been kicked. "I'm sorry, please, I'll do anything if you'll forgive me." He caught hold of Tonbo's hand again, stroking it earnestly.

Tonbo tugged at his hand, trying to jerk it away, and glared at Shimon. In the general direction of Shimon's voice, anyway, and hopefully his eyes were actually open. "Go die."

Shimon sniffed. "Anything but that, Ton-sama," he said, almost tearfully. "Who would take care of you?"

He really, really wanted to respond with something cruel and scathing, but all that moving around had completely depleted what little energy he had, so he more or less collapsed, going limp. "Hate you," he managed to mutter, words slurred and weak and hardly recognizable.

"I think you should leave and let him rest, Shimon-san," the medic said worriedly, practically hovering over them.

Shimon nodded, and let himself be gently propelled out of the room. "When can I come back?" he asked, every line concerned worry.

"Tomorrow. You have to give him time to heal."

Shimon nodded, and left. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ton-sama."

***

Kamakiri climbed into the window, bypassing the security. Visiting hours were for wimps, really. And it wasn't as if he was going to do anything stupid like swallow Tonbo's blood. He knew how contagious the brat was, anyway, from the last time he'd been in hospital, that year ago.

Stupid, stupid Tonbo. A total pain in the ass, and not the good kind, that resulted from pleasurable activities, but the type that was a giant bitten chunk off...

Oookay, he was ignoring that damn metaphor right now.

Anyway. Moonlight? Was a horrible sort of lighting. It washed skin out so that even the darkest skin tone looked sickly and anemic. And Tonbo had lost quite a lot of blood himself. Exploratory abdominal surgery in order to determine the extent of damage, and then chakra-healing for his heart, and yet more open-heart surgery... It made Tonbo look pale, and his scraggly red hair dark like blood on the pillow.

"Fuck, Tonbo," Kamakiri sighed, sitting on the chair. "What did you do to piss him off so? It really shouldn't have been this way."

It didn't take quite as long to recognize Kamakiri's voice as it had Shimon. Maybe it was that he knew his brother better, and the fact that he'd been awake for a little before Kama came in probably helped too. "What time's it?" he asked, ignoring Kamakiri's question.

"Two hours in the middle of the night. Or something witty like that." Kamakiri drummed his fingers on the side-table. "And you still feeling like shit, little brother?"

"Probably been worse. Sometime." Tonbo shifted, slightly, trying to sit up, trying not to look too pathetically near-dead.

Middle of the night? He'd been out for so long that his internal clock was all screwed up. That was another reason why he hated hospitals. Time seemed to do the weirdest things in them. An hour lying in bed felt like days, but he could sleep for what felt like an hour and wake up two days later.

Kamakiri leaned over, and helped him. Fuck nurses and their insistence that people lie still and jab needles in them. Sometimes they had to move around to keep the blood from stagnating, and the muscles limber.

"Yeah. Did quite a number on you, little brother. Want some water?"

"Duno if I'm allowed. I think they're secretly trying to kill me." It wasn't quite so hard to think and talk as it had been earlier, with Shimon, which was nice. He still felt weak and washed out, though, like something put through the wash until it came out unravelling and faded.

"Nah. We pay them too much for that." Kamakiri leaned over and tilted his water-skin to Tonbo's lips, the water-purification tablet he'd broken into it making sure it was as sterile as it could get.

The cool water was a soothing balm for his parched throat. Tonbo took several deep, greedy sips, swallowing down as much as he could before Kamakiri took it away. "Thanks."

"You're welcome brat." Kamakiri made a face at his water skin, and tied it back onto his belt. "Gotta mission in a couple of hours. I just dropped by to see you before I left."

In his eagerness to not feel like he'd swallowed several pounds of sand, Tonbo had managed to inhale some of the water. As a result, he was too busy hacking up his lungs to actually respond to Kamakiri for a good thirty seconds. "'M glad. S'nice of you. Ugh." He gagged slightly, making a face and choking down the thick wad of phlegm and what tasted disturbingly like blood back down.

"Yeah. With your ugly mug as the last thing I see before a mission, nothing else would disturb me."

"Glad to help." Tonbo attempted a mock salute.

"The personification of helpfulness, that's you." Kamakiri ignored the pathetic attempt. "So why did you end up all shitted here, Tonbo? Nothing like this should have happened. Why are you so intent on pissing people off?"

Tonbo managed a shrug. "'Ve got no clue why. Maybe I killed Shi's mom or something?" He couldn't think of anything he'd done to deserve this as retribution. Hell, he couldn't even think of anything he'd seriously consider doing that would deserve this.

Kamakiri sighed. "So it was Shimon who did it?" He'd suspected. "You insulted him, you know. After you drugged him with your forsaken pot."

"Didn't drug him," Tonbo protested. Shimon had been perfectly capable of opening a window, or asking him to put away the joint, or, hell, moving to a different room. It wasn't Tonbo's fault he hadn't. "...Wait. He did this 'cause I insulted him?" He knew Shimon was petty, but to nearly kill him over an insult? Surely he wouldn't go that far.

"You called him a slut," Kamakiri pointed out. "I'm rather surprised he didn't gut you then and there."

"...S'not...that's...he's..." Tonbo didn't even know what to say to that. That Shimon had put him through this was bad enough, but he had thought that maybe it had just been an accident. Shimon'd been messing with stuff and spilled his medicine or something, or mixed it up with something else. But to think that he'd done it on purpose, and because of something so trivial as Tonbo calling him a slut?

That was so infuriating Tonbo almost couldn't be angry. He'd nearly died because Shimon was too petty to let go of something like that. And he knew that this was going to keep him there longer, make him weaker, make recovering harder... Being confined to the bed as he was, he didn't know exactly how very weakened he was, but from the fact that just moving his arms was a trial, he could guess.

He'd made so much progress, after Ibiki had slapped him out of feeling sorry for himself. He'd worked so hard to be able to function again, to get to a point where people couldn't tell immediately what was wrong, that he was blind, or how weak he was. It had been months, and he still sometimes had trouble standing up, getting out of bed each morning. And now that all may have very well been ruined. Shimon could have put him right back at square one, too weak to move or sit or stand or do anything.

And all for the sake of an insult. Because Tonbo had called him a name.

If he'd been able to, Tonbo would have gotten up to hunt Shimon down and kill him right then and there. The fact that he couldn't was the problem, though.

When he got better, he swore, Shimon was going to be introduced to realms of pain he hadn't ever even dreamed of.

"I mean, yeah, kinda extreme, but you know, Tonbo, some people got these things called trigger-words? Some things you just don't call people. Like Slut. Or whore. Or bitch. Unless you want to get slapped in the face." He never thought he'd have to teach Tonbo that. But apparently the little idiot didn't know how to pick that up from common courtesy.

"Slapped in the...This--" he gestured about weakly, indicating the hospital room, all the machines making sure various vital organs did what they were supposed to, and his own corpse-like state-- "is not a slap in the face! S'like...s'like a slap inna face with a mace. An' then gettin' kicked in the balls. An' then having your organs pulled out! And...and...an' lotsa other nasty shit!"

"Yeah. You know trigger-words? They kinda make people go ballistic." Kamakiri reached over and patted his hand. "I dunno Shimon-kun well, but you ought to, him being your roommate and all. You should have known him well enough not to say that sort of thing."

Tonbo tried to growl at him. "Kama, how many times've I gotta say I don't like him b'fore you get it? We don't talk much. Didn't know he'd go this far over somethin' stupid like that."

"Well, you got out of it, that's for sure," Kamakiri sighed. "Very extreme, but it certainly broke the engagement scenario."

***

Shimon really didn't think it boded well to be called into Daiki-san's office twice within three days. And then to be kept waiting while Daiki wasn't there.

He had nearly memorised the grain of his desk before Daiki-san deigned to walk in.

"Finding my desk interesting?" Daiki asked as he took his seat. "You're here to talk about Tonbo-kun again. Well, sort of. More about your 'engagement', really."

"It's an interesting grain," Shimon said, voice subdued, before he registered the rest of the words. "Tonbo? What of him?" hopefully he didn't die... "and how did you know about the engagment?"

"You two weren't actually engaged. It was...a test, if you will. We wanted to see how well you could get yourself out of an unwanted situation without resorting to violence. Though..." He shook his head slightly. "Nearly killing him certainly got you out of it, but it wasn't exactly what anyone thought you'd do." Forging flawed copies of the engagement papers had been a good idea. And either one of them could have acted their way out of it, if they'd thought for a bit.

"A... test?" Shimon did not know if he was stunned or just plain stupified. "...I nearly had a heart-attack over this and it was just a test?"  
"I hardly think you came out the worst," Daiki said dryly. "Yes. It was a test. All the other operatives are being tested like that, too, and none of them have put anyone in the hospital, I'll have you know."

Shimon flushed slightly at the mention of Tonbo. "... I... see. I... did try. To - to... work it out with Ton-kun."  
"Yes, Shimon-kun, and we all know how that turned out. Do tell me, are you two actually physically incapable of being civil to each other for more than five minutes at a time?" He leaned forwards slightly, arms crossed on his desk.

Shimon didn't quite pout. "I am perfectly civil. It is he who can't control himself."

"And yet, Shimon-kun, he's the one who ended up nearly dead because of an insult." Daiki's tone was drier than the deserts surrounding Suna. During a heatwave.

"...It was an unexpected side-effect," Shimon offered.

"Do you honestly mean to tell me that you hadn't the faintest idea that tampering with his medication could have some adverse effects?"

Shimon looked down at the table. "I didn't believe that it was a... I thought it was something like an anti-depressant. Or... Something." he hadn't been too concerned with it at all. He'd only paid attention to poisons in the chemical-portion in class. "It would have only been. Been. replaced, for a short period of time."

Daiki looked vaguely baffled. "Whyever would Tonbo-kun be on anti-depressants? Anyway, Shimon-kun, don't you think messing with something like that would have ill effects as well?" Honestly. The boy was clever, which was why it was so frustrating to see him not using his brain. Daiki abhorred waste of any sort.

"Not if it were something non-clinical. And judging from the class of drugs, I thought it was something that might be treating a mild case of depression. His violent behaviour seemed to fit."

"Sadly, it seems he's just naturally that way. I trust you've learned not to fool around with someone's medication unless you're sure of what it does."

Shimon nodded. "I won't, Daiki-san."

"Good. You know, Shimon-kun," he said in an almost off-hand tone, "you might want to go get yourself checked out. You two room together, and from what I understand, the disease is particularly communicable early on, before it starts doing noticeably extensive damage."

Shimon blinked at him, and turned two shades paler. "...I w-will, Daiki-san." His voice had gone noticably fainter too.

Sick? Gods. He didn't want to get sick! Not like that. Not blind and shaky on his feet and useless, surly and snarling at people, lashing out in his agony of being helpless.  
He could rememebr the smell of stale blood and rot just covered with the taste of disinfectant in the hospital room, and Tonbo weak and puling on the bed, unable to barely snarl at him... No. No. He was not going to have that happen. "H-how... communicable? Is this disease?" he asked, trembling slightly, hands clenching white. "And how?"

Because... if it was air communicable... oh gods. It'd been two weeks ago since he'd started the chain of events that would have led to the substitution of tonbo's medication, and if it became infectious then... He swallowed, and tried not to appear as if he were about to faint.  
Daiki carefully hid the amusement he took in Shimon's obvious terror. It wasn't that he liked tormenting his subordinates, but sometimes they really did deserve it.

"From what I understand, it's very contagious. And transferred through bodily fluids, I believe. Rather like the flu, though not so common." In fact, it hadn't shown up in Konoha for years. Tonbo had to have picked it up somewhere outside the village and brought it back, which brought up disturbing thoughts of just how up to date the immunizations in the village actually were.

Luckily, there wasn't too very much chance of it spreading very far, unless Tonbo made a habit of bleeding on people. Though any sexual partners of his would certainly be at risk... Daiki made a mental note to mention that to Kaede and get her to figure out who he'd been with, if anyone, so they could go and get tested.

That meant sweat. And breathed out water-vapour. He was going to go get tested Right Now.

"You may leave now, Shimon-kun. That's all I needed to talk to you about." Daiki gave him a pleasant smile. "Do remember to get yourself checked out. We don't want any more sick operatives."

Shimon nodded, and left. As quickly as decency allowed.

***

Shimon didn't particularly like hospitals. He most definitely didn't like going to having blood drawn and tested - regular check-ups were fine, but he didn't like being screened. For one, they never found his vein, and kept poking him full of holes.

But at least this time they only did it twice, and he was waiting out for an hour or two to find out that he was perfectly fine, and they gave him an immunity jab just in case.

A new one, developed a couple of months ago, after Tonbo's illness' appearance, said the chatty nurse. And it wasn't contagious when he was in remission either, which was good. As long as he didn't donate blood or something.

Which meant, of course, that Daiki hadn't exactly been telling the truth about Tonbo. He wasn't contagious now, especially since he was on the mend. And he had been only contagious as he'd been declining so.

He was going to get back at Daiki for this.

***  
Daiki was not very happy to come into his office and find one of his favorite plants sprouting blue flame. It didn't take too very long to put it out, and a few minutes of chakra-healing--not that Daiki would ever, ever admit to chakra-healing a plant--had it looking almost as good as new, if a bit curled at the tips of its leaves.

Tracking down the culprit didn't take very long, either. There was only one person who had such a fondness for setting his beloved potted plants aflame, and Daiki had recently caused him to nearly have a panic attack.

"Shimon-kun," Daiki asked, as he dragged the boy into his office, "was setting my plant on fire really necessary? It didn't do anything to you." He'd been expecting everything from sullen silence to attempts to deny involvement to embarassed apologies.

What he hadn't been expecting was Shimon to look up at him, head tilted back so his hair fell to frame his face, bat his eyes, and simper--simper! Like some soft, perfumed whore!--that he was so very sorry, he didn't mean to at all, it was a terrible accident and however could he make it up to Daiki-san?

Daiki's expression was utterly gratifying. His eyes were so large, they might have fallen out of his face. Shimon clasped his hands together on his knees, looking at him earnestly. "Please, Daiki-san," he simpered, "I'm really, really sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

"You could start with stopping that," Daiki suggested. "What terrible crime have I committed to earn your ire this time?"

"Stop doing what?" Shimon tilted his head, lips slightly parted in an innocently, earnestly contrite expression. "I didn't mean to set your plant on fire, Daiki-san." He leaned in against the desk. "Honest."

"...Sure. I suppose you just tripped into my office and did it on accident. Quit...simpering."

Shimon's lower lip trembled. "I was just experimenting," he said, looking for all the world like he was about to burst into guilty tears. "I'm sorry! I'll do anything to make up for it, Daiki-san. Anything."

"Quit acting like a scolded puppy," Daiki ordered, looking mildly irritated. He knew Shimon wasn't innocent, but when he was giving Daiki that LOOK, it was hard to be irritated at him.

Hard, but not impossible. He had set Daiki's beloved plant on fire, after all.

"Y-yes," Shimon said, but his expression didn't change at all, still looking wide-eyed, earnest. He licked his lips, just a flicker of the tip of his tongue.

Daiki regarded him for a moment, one eyebrow rising a few degrees. "And do quit trying to look innocently seductive. It's very off-putting." What was more disturbing was that, whether or not it was intentional, Shimon was good at it.

Thinking about his subordinate--especially one so young as Shimon--in that manner was highly inappropriate and unprofessional, though, so Daiki quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Shimon's eyes widened, his wet, pink lips parting just a little more. "I-innocently seductive? Daiki-san I don't know what you're talking about." Though there was a faint rise in blush on the peaks of his cheeks, and he shifted, biting his lip and glancing down again, looking ashamed.

"Shimon-kun. Stop," Daiki said sternly, very pointedly not looking at Shimon's very kissable lips, or his delicately flushed cheeks, or those wide, innocent eyes.

"Stop what?" He was the very picture of bewildered innocence, shifting and flushing and thoroughly unaware of what he was doing to Daiki. "I don't know what you mean, Daiki-san." 

Past experience had shown that, when Shimon didn't want to admit something, it took nothing short of a twenty minute session with a senior T&I operative to get him to. Daiki knew that he couldn't replicate that with stern looks.

"I'm quite sure you do. However, since you refuse to admit it, you'll have to repay me in another way." He escorted Shimon out of the room and down the hall, finally steering him into a little filing room. "I want copies of every document in this room by the end of the day. As perfect as you can make them, or you'll have to do it over again."

"Of course, Daiki-san," Shimon said, demurely and submissive, "As you say, Daiki-san."

And he gave him a look of abject adoration.

Daiki staunchly ignored the look and left.

At the end of the day, Shimon had turned in nearly picture-perfect copies of every document. He presented them to Daiki with a look that befit someone on his knees instead of a subordinate.

Daiki examined the documents rather than Shimon's pretty face. "These are good. You're improving."

"Anything for you, Daiki-san," Shimon said, pathetically eager.

Daiki chose not to grace that with a reply. "You may leave now, Shimon-kun."

Shimon looked like a kicked puppy. "There is nothing else I can do?" There was absolutely nothing wrong with his words, but somehow there was a sort of insinuation there.

Shimon was particularly proud of that. He didn't know why, but it got him kisses from Akihiko-san as soon as he used that sort of tone.

"...You can go home. And not set anymore of my belongings on fire."

Shimon bowed, far deeper than he normally did, and left. As he turned to leave though, he did notice a slight flush on Daiki's cheeks.

Hee.

Daiki sighed slightly and went back to his work, resolutely ignoring the slight squirming in his stomach and the heat in his face. Such feelings were entirely unprofessional, and Daiki was head of his department. Wholly professional, wholly in control of himself.

It was hard to push away the images of Shimon's innocent, eager to please face, inviting lips parted and wet under the light, eyes wide and earnest, looking so very easy to take advantage of. Hard, but not impossible. Daiki was a professional, after all.

***

Shimon smiled mentally, as he left Daiki's office. Obviously, his ploy had worked on Daiki. It would have spectacular effects on Tonbo, perhaps. Aaaand... He could see Akihiko over there, working at his desk. When the man looked up, Shimon bit his lip and glanced away. It wasn't a newfound power, precisely, but it was fun, flirting, and now if he did this, wide-eyed and innocent... well. it wasn't hard to do anyway, since he really was fairly innocent. The most he'd gone to was kissing, and he'd been surprised by where Akihiko had wanted to put his hands...

It wasn't too very unusual to see someone leaving Daiki's office, considering that the man did speak to his subordinates and all. It was slightly more unusual for that person to be a young man - boy, really. He looked fourteen or fifteen. It was highly unusual for said adolescent to be more decorative than the plants Daiki was so very fond of.

Why was it, Keisuke wondered, that all of the young male operatives seemed to be so pretty? It was like some sort of conspiracy. And this one looked so innocent and cute and sort of vaguely lost.

"Are you looking fo something?" he asked curiously. People typically didn't just loiter around in the halls unless they were lost.

Shimon glanced up, still contemplating Akihiko's kissing and trying to get a rise out of Daiki. "O-oh," he said, chewing on his lip and glancing down again, cheeks still flushed. Somehow, it did feel a bit like the other man had caught him thinking about... well. He slid a glance into Daiki's office. It'd make Daiki more uncomfortable, wouldn't it, if he 'simpered' at someone else, right in front of his door. "... I was just... K-keisuke-san? Um. Daiki-san scolded me for setting his plant on fire. It was an accident."

Keisuke contemplated asking if Daiki was punishing Shimon by making him take the place of said plant, but quickly decided against it. "I'm...sorry."

Shimon didn't exactly sniffle, but he made a sound reminescient of it. "He... He... I didn't mean to. I really want to make it up to him. Keisuke-san, do you know what I can do?" He looked up at him, eyes wide.

Keisuke resembled a startled deer. "I...I don't...Don't do it again, I suppose? Um...or...something." A large part of him suspected the boy was doing this on purpose. No one at that age had any right to be so very cute and innocent and...he was not going to even consider thinking the word 'ravishable'. That was not a word one applied to pretty, underaged boys.  
The rest of him, however, was far too busy noting how very ravishable the boy looked and wondering if his pink lips were as soft as they looked.

Shimon dropped his gaze, fingers tangling nervously. "I have to make up for it somehow," he said softly, glancing into Daiki's office. The man looked like he wasn't reacting at all.

"Um, I'm, um, I'm sorry, I don't know what you could do..." Definitely doing it on purpose. Keisuke would be irritated, only the boy was cute.

Daiki glanced up momentarily, not quite smiling. "You're sixteen, aren't you, Shimon-kun?"

Shimon blinked. What had that got to do with anything? "I am..."

"Thank you. I was just wondering. I couldn't remember for a moment. You should quit bothering Keisuke-san."

Keisuke felt slightly less bad about thinking about how ravishable Shimon was. Barely legal was still legal. "Oh, it's fine. He's - you're not bothering me, Shimon-kun."

"I'm glad," Shimon said, smiling shyly, even as he tried to figure out what Daiki was trying to get at. Was there a significance to his words? "I just really want to make it up to Daiki-san. I'd do anything." He let his mouth linger on the last word, just a little lilt of emphasis.

Keisuke's mind came up with several interesting anythings Shimon could do, but none of them really involved Daiki and were not, therefore, valid suggestions. "Maybe you should, um, ask him?"

"He told me to leave." Shimon's voice dropped, and sounded like he was at the edge of desperation. "But I really want to make it up to him. Keisuke-san, can't you think of something?"

"You could stop hovering outside my door," Daiki suggested. "Keisuke-san, take him out for dinner or something. He's cluttering up the hallway."

Well, he couldn't disobey a direct order from a superior, could he? "Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go, Shimon-kun?"

Shimon blinked at that. Suddenly events were shifting out of his control, and he didn't know where they were heading. "...Uh. There's a sushi-bar downtown that I've wanted to go to..." Shimon answered on automatic. Why had Daiki said that? And what was he suggesting? Or was he just trying to get rid of Shimon? And why was Akihiko looking somewhat concerned?

Keisuke smiled slightly. "Alright. It seems like you can make it up to Daiki-san by eating sushi." And now he'd dropped the innocent and concerned act, so Keisuke knew it had been on purpose. He was still cute, though.

"I beg your pardon?" Shimon asked, bewildered. "I don't understand..."

"Daiki-san said he wanted you to leave," Keisuke explained. "And then he told me to take you out to dinner, presumably to get you to leave. Were you not listening?"

"Oh," Shimon said, biting his lip, his brow furrowing faintly in thought. There was a reason why Daiki had wanted him gone, then, but... "I'm sorry, Keisuke-san, I was..." he glanced to Daiki, and back at the floor. "I... I was distracted."

"It's fine. So...Where is this place you were wanting to go? Lead on." He gestured down the hallway, towards the exit.

Shimon glanced back to Daiki's office, but the man wasn't paying them anymore attention, and Shimon pouted. "I... Down... Birch Street," he said finally, moving to catch up with Keisuke.

Keisuke slowed slightly to let Shimon lead. "I don't think I'm familiar with the place. Show me?"

Shimon nodded, and led the way, half lost in thought, still trying to puzzle out what Daiki was doing. He was sneaky, he'd bet. There was always something Intel was up to. That engagement, for one thing. Scaring him about the disease...

Keisuke was wondering what Daiki was doing as well. He had slightly more of an idea than Shimon did, though. Still, he was curious. Was Daiki just trying to get Shimon away, or was he playing matchmaker? The latter option seemed very unlikely, but... Making Keisuke take Shimon out, instead of just ordering the boy away? And he'd made a point of mentioning Shimon's age...

Most likely, Keisuke decided, he was just getting rid of Shimon, and letting Keisuke know that if he so chose to go any further, he wouldn't be breaking any laws. Which was good to know, because Shimon was pretty. He had quite a nice bottom, too, and Keisuke was discreetly oogling it as they walked.

Shimon led them to the sushi place. It was quite a small establishment, but he'd heard from his father that it was quite good. Good, quiet, and a nice atmosphere, and very nice sushi. Of course, he hadn't tried the sake yet, and his father had said if Shimon wanted to try it, this place was as good a place as any to start.

"Keisuke-san," Shimon mumured, letting him seat himself first.

Keisuke took his seat, inviting Shimon to sit down across from him. "I haven't been here before. Have you?"

"No," Shimon said, arranging his feet automatically to kneel on the cushion. "I have not. My father recommended this establishment to me."

He glanced through the menu that the waitress handed him, and smiled at the girl. "These do look good. Is there anything in particular you like, Keisuke-san?"

Keisuke looked over the menu. Truth be told, he wasn't too very hungry, having eaten just a little earlier. After a moment of thought, he ordered a bottle of sake.

Shimon looked surprised. "You are not hungry, Keisuke-san?" He didn't say anything about this being the first time drinking sake though. He was curious about what it'd taste like.

Keisuke shook his head. "I ate a little while ago."

"You will be missing out," Shimon said, shrugging delicately.

***

Shimon hadn't realised that alcohol could go to his head so quickly. Sake certainly was sweet, sweeter than he'd expected, and he found himself drinking far more than he'd meant to. Keisuke was a good... host? Since he was taking Shimon out for dinner, Shimon supposed that made Keisuke the host. Keisuke kept his cup full, watching him and chatting lightly as Shimon ate his food. Which was good. As good as the sake, only the sake made him... well. It made him feel hot, a little, flushed and relaxed.

Keisuke hadn't exactly meant to get Shimon drunk. He hadn't explicitly planned to, at any rate. It was a not-unappreciated side-effect, though. The boy seemed much more relaxed, though Keisuke was certainly not thinking about taking advantage of his inebriated state. That wouldn't be right.

Even if Shimon did look so very cute, flushed and unfocused and slurring.

Shimon shifted, and Keisuke caught him before he fell into his plate. "...Nn... I think," he said, blinking, glancing up at Keisuke, who looked very nice. "I think I'm done now?"

Keisuke gently pulled Shimon to his feet, nodding. "I think you are. Where do you live?" He paid, and then they were walking down the street, Keisuke supporting Shimon with an arm around his waist.

Shimon leaned on him, half nuzzling his shoulder. Keisuke was warm. "Y're warm," he said. He had to think hard about his address, before he could slur it out.

"Do you live with anyone?" Shimon had had a lot to drink, and Keisuke was a little worried about him. It wouldn't do to have him stumbling around and accidentally falling down his own stairs or something. Though if he'd given Keisuke his family home address rather than the housing provided by Intel, then he might not want to be seen by his parents or guardian or whatever like this.

Keisuke almost wanted to offer to take Shimon to his home, but thought better of it. That was far too overt, and, anyway, he hardly knew the boy. He'd just taken him out and giotten him drunk. Taking him home and ravishing him wouldn't be right, even if he was clinging and nuzzling and practically begging to be molested.

Settling his hand on Shimon's hip in a sort of compromise between his morals and his libido, Keisuke began leading the boy back home. Maybe he'd change his mind ater thinking about the possibility of being seen falling-down drunk by his parents or roommate and ask to stay with Keisuke. Not very likely, but hoping didn't hurt.

"'Sides that abom... abom... person?" Shimon curled to him, blinking a little. "...'S in hospital now. No one home."

"Alright." If no one was home, maybe he could stay for a little. Just to look after Shimon, of course.

Once they got to the apartmnet, Keisuke turned to Shimon. "Key?" He was sure the door would be locked. They were shinobi, after all.

Shimon lolled his head back againt Keisuke's shoulder, staring at the door. "...I think?" He reached into his pocket. Well, tried. He couldn't seem to find it. "...I think 's in my pocket?"

Keisuke looked faintly amused as he slid his hand into Shimon's pocket and felt for his key. Kid was a cute drunk, though Keisuke felt kind of bad about letting him get to the point where he couldn't find his own pocket. He didn't allow himself to spend too very long thinking about how warm Shimon's leg was through his pants, or how nicely the boy fit against him, leaning back into him like that.

Once he'd gotten the door open, he led Shimon inside and let him collapse onto the couch.

Shimon mewled slightly when Keisuke seemed about to shift away. "K-kei..." Too difficult to finish the name. "Kei-san," he mumbled. "Warm..."

Apparently Shimon didn't want him to go away. The boy sounded like a kitten, almost, mewling protests when its source of warmth left. Keisuke sat down on the couch next to him, letting Shimon curl up against him. "How long do you want me to stay?"

"Mm. F'ver." Because he was warm, comfortable to curl against, and the way he was stroking his back was very very nice. If he shifted just so... he was all but in Keisuke's lap, and that was even better.

It had been a long time since he'd had a lapful of warm, supple, willing boy. Outside of fantasies, at least. Keiuske tried not to focus too much on the happy little sounds Shimon was making, or the strip of smooth skin he could see in between the boy's rucked up shirt and the waist of his pants. He was going to try to not take advantage of Shimon. "I'm afraid I can't stay forever. How's the night sound?" Maybe not the smartest proposition, considering that he was a slight bit tipsy himself and Shimon was all but throwing himself at him, but Keisuke was confident in his self-control. He was a shinobi, after all.

If all else failed, he could just strip some more skin off his wrist with the rubber band he always wore. Nothing ruined a mood quite like weeping sores.

"'Mkay," Shimon said, snuggling to Keisuke's neck, purring and cuddling. He wanted more warm. "Warm." He tugged at Keisuke's shirt, the rough fabric of the Intel uniform a nice friction, but not as nice as skin to skin would feel, and the buttons were so big. Big and shiny and too difficult to undo when he tried. "Buttons," he said sadly.

Was Shimon trying to undress him? Kiesuke regarded the boy with slight surprise as his shirt was pawed at. "...Yeah. And?"

"'S too difficult," Shimon said. "Off?" He shifted, and tugged at his own shirt, making frustrated sounds when the turtle-neck defeated his normally agile fingers.  
Keisuke was pretty sure he hadn't ever had a pretty young boy squirming in his lap and alternately trying to strip Keisuke and himself. Ever. Not even in his dreams. He'd have to reevalutate some of his fantasies based on this night's events, it seemed. "...Why are you trying to get my clothes off?"

"Warm," Shimon declared solemnly, sitting up slightly. "'M warm. 'N you're warm." Which meant they should take their clothes off. Then Shimon could cuddle. 

"...And this means clothing needs to come off...why?"

"Then can cuddle," Shimon said, blinking up at him, earnestly. "Why not? You're warm. 'n nice. Not like T-ton-darrrrling. He's mean, and 'orrible. 'n beats me."

Keisuke blinked, looking startled. "Oh my. I'm sorry." Poor, mistreated little Shimon. Keisuke decided that he deserved a hug, and promptly gave him one. "Cuddling can't happen with clothing?" It was much harder to avoid ravishing a half-naked boy squirming in his lap.

Shimon cooed at getting a nice warm solid hug, and cuddled against him, nuzzling Keisuke's neck. "Warm," he said happily, and proceeded to lick his skin. Oooh, it was nice. Warm skin!

At least Shimon was distracted from removing his clothing. Though now he was licking him. Keisuke shivered just a little at the swipe of warm, wet tongue across his neck. "So you've said."

"Mm." Shimon tugged at his collar, trying to expose more skin. "Off?"

Apparently he'd thought too soon. Keisuke hesitated for a moment, but then decided that it couldn't hurt. Much. Anyway, this was a perfect opportunity, and he'd hate himself later for missing it. So he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off obligingly. "There."

Shimon cooed again, and snuggled happily, rubbing his cheek against Keisuke's chest, and purring. He found it utterly fascinating to lick at the hollow of Keisuke's throat.  
Keisuke swallowed and shifted slightly, trying not to think too much about the way Shimon's hair was tickling the bottom of his chin, or how he could smell the boy's shampoo, or anything of the sort. And he resolutely ignored the sudden liquid heat squirming low in his belly. Shimon was drunk. It wouldn't be right to take advantage of him.

Shimon purred again, and nuzzled against his throat, licking lazily at his neck. "Mmm. Taste good. Better'n Ton-darrrling."

"S'...S'nice," he managed.

Shimon purred and curled to him, nuzzling. "Like you," Shimon said, licking and looking up at him through his lashes and bangs. "Like you lots better'n Ton-darrrling..."

Keisuke patted him. "Thank you. I like you too." Though possibly that was just his dick talking, because, god, Shimon was hot. Pretty and still little, still a boy, still not quite filled all the way out yet. So innocent and cute. And squirming in his lap and licking him.

Shimon smiled at him, happy and bright. "You like me?" he nuzzled him. "Ton-darling doesn't. I don't know why. Lotsa people don't like me. An' call me names."

Keisuke leaned down and pressed a sympathetic kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry. I can't see why anyone would dislike you. You're very nice."

"You like me?" Shimon asked, looking like a little boy who'd been offered sweets. "You're nice. I like you lots." he nuzzled him again, then tugged at his own shirt. "...Off?"

Keisuke hesitated for a long moment, then helped Shimon tug his own shirt off. "Yeah. I like you."

Shimon smiled and leaned up. "Thank you." he thought a moment. "Can I kiss you?" He had a nice mouth. Akihiko's was nicer, but Keisuke liked him, and he was the ooonly one who liked him lots.  
Another pause, and then, "Sure."

So Shimon pressed his mouth to Keisuke's in a shy, little just barely damp kiss, and pulled away, blushing.

Shimon's lips were very soft, and Keisuke could detect just the faintest taste of sake from that fleeting contact. "Can I kiss you back?"

Nodding, eyes looking at the couch, Shimon murmured a little sound of assent.

Keisuke slid his fingers under Shimon's chin, tilting his head up slightly, and leaned down, kissing him more firmly. The taste of sake was stronger now, sweet on Shimon's soft lips.

Shimon made a sound, not quite surprise, but mewing a little, mouth parting slightly under Keisuke's kissing.

There was hardly a second of hesitation before Keisuke took full advantage of that slight invitation, tongue pressing in to explore and taste Shimon.

Shimon whimpered slightly, mouth opening to accept him, eyes fluttering shut, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink. His hands clung to Keisuke's arms, and he squirmed.

Keisuke groaned softly, sound reverberating into Shimon's mouth. His hands settled on the boy's hips, pulling Shimon against him and stroking his warm, exposed skin.

Shimon moaned and squirmed against his mouth, pressing against his hands, the man's hands broad and warm just below his ribs, making warm-heat curl under his belly, enough that he had to spread his legs on either side of Keisuke's thighs, pressing down against the warmest part of Keisuke he could, rocking where all his heat was. 

The skin of Shimon's belly was soft under his fingers, like the delicate petals of a flower. Keisuke stroked him gently, calloused fingertips ghosting over his skin, smearing little droplets of sweat along his stomach and catching on the few scars he had. He responded so readily, pressing against Keisuke, legs splayed over Keisuke's hips and all but humping him, that Keisuke couldn't help pressing back up, moaning into his mouth.

Shimon sighed into his mouth, wriggling, writhing, agianst his hand, against Keisuke's legs, making sounds that were possibly encouraging, and inviting more touch, more need, heated flush squirming around his body but concentrating between his legs, warm, heating, boiling.

Keisuke's hands slid up Shimon's torso, one sliding around to stroke along his spine and the other fanning out over his chest, the tip of his middle finger catching and rubbing one of Shimon's nipples.

Shimon cried out into his mouth, surprised and bucking against the touch, pressing harder to Keisuke, almost flush, before breaking the kiss, panting, mouth wet. "K-kei-san..."  
Shimon's rosy pink, soft lips looked so very inviting like that, wet and swollen and kiss-bruised. Keisuke leaned in and kissed him briefly again before pulling back and responding. "What?"

Shimon looked up at him, eyes wide and soft through his lashes. "...I ... want..." He squirmed closer, pressing his hips closer, a moment, moaning softly. "Please?" He didn't know what he wanted, but he wanted... wanted... "More?"  
Keisuke's breath stuttered in his throat for a moment. His hands shook briefly against Shimon's skin, and then they were sliding down to cup the boy's ass, pulling Shimon tight against him and rolling his hips against Shimon's. "Want me to fuck you?" he asked, kissing Shimon, murmuring his words against the side of the boy's mouth. That was what Shimon was asking, more or less, but Keisuke wanted to make sure that was what he meant.

Shimon knew that that word meant something. He would have known if he was sober, but right now, the meaning was elusive. Nonetheless, it still caused a shiver down his spine, crying out softly as a hard heat rocked against him. He couldn't help but rock back. "... Want," he agreed. "Please?"  
Keisuke moaned softly, shivering against Shimon. "Got lube?" he asked, sliding a hand down into the back of the boy's pants. 

Shimon shivered and squirmed back, mewling. "L-lube? Why?"

"'Cause it'd hurt if I fucked you dry." Keisuke squeezed Shimon's ass, fingers stroking at the hot, smooth skin.

Shimon blinked at him, squirming and biting his lip at the fingers pressing at him, kneading. "... I d-don't h-have any..." THough Tonbo might have some. "Maybe Ton-darling has some?" He added hopefully, and gestured to Tonbo's room. "But I dun wanna move..."  
Keisuke kissed his jaw. "I'll go look." He regretfully shifted Shimon off of him and stood up, taking a moment to adjust his pants a bit before heading towards the room Shimon had pointed out.

Shimon mewled, and slithered on to the couch, arching and squirming because of the lack of contact. So by the time Keisuke came back, Shimon was rubbing his chest on the canvas cushions of the battered couch, mewling and moaning softly.

Keisuke knelt over Shimon on the couch, leaning over to set the container of lube ont he table before tugging the boy's pants off. Then he picked it up again and shifted Shimon, sitting back and pulling the boy into his lap, arching up against him while he slicked his fingers.

He kissed Shimon hard, hot and wet and hurried and almost messy, licking and sucking at his mouth while he pressed wet fingers into him slowly, stretching and slicking him.

Shimon arched, crying out into Keisuke's mouth, surprised, mewling, eyes going wide. If he weren't drunk he'd be tense and nervous, but he was relaxed, and easily slid into the rhythm of the fingers shifting in and out of him, as strange as they felt. He squirmed on the fingers, mewling and pulling away to pant agianst Keisuke's shoulder. "K-kei-san... p-please..."  
Keisuke reached down to fumble at his pants with his free hand, finally managing to slide them down and kick them off. He pulled his fingers out of Shimon and slicked them again, this time rubbing the lube onto his own cock, squirming slightly and thrusting up into his slick hand before finally pulling it away and positioning himself against Shimon's entrance.

He pressed in slowly, carefully, gasping softly at how tight Shimon was. Tight and hot around him, squimring on hiim, and...god.

Shimon mewled and arched, tensing slightly, whimpering. Keisuke was... bigger then the fingers, wide and large and blunt, pushing into him with such slow inexorability that he whimpered, tears in his eyes, trembling and quivering. "K-kei-sa-an..."

Keisuke kissed Shimon, swallowing his little whimpers and cries and pausing when he was sheathed inside of him, giving Shimon time to adjust. He reached down between them with his slick fingers and curled them around Shimon's cock, slowly stroking and rubbing him.

Shimon panted into his mouth, whimpering and shuddering, until it didn't hurt so much, just being there, stretching him. And then he was being touched and made him keen and buck, crying out into Keisuke's mouth.  
Keisuke began rocking against him, slowly sliding in and out, angling to hit that bundle of nerves that made it feel so very good. He wanted to have Shimon writhing in his lap, squimring on him and bucking and gasping and wanting, willing and wanton and needy.

Shimon had never experienced these feelings. Not the incredible sensations of slow, large rocking, and pumping and sliding of skin on skin, driving heat up around, till he could barely breathe, for the taste and feelings and smell and everything hot and heated around him. And then Keisuke moved and then he was crying out, high and sharp into Keisuke's mouth, his whole body electrified. Gods, that was... that was...  
The way Shimon was moving against him and, god, the noises he was making were driving all rational thought out of Keisuke's mind. All he could think about was the taste of Shimon, sake-sweet and hot and wet, the hot friction of being inside of him, the boy's hard cock in his hand. He concentrated on pumping Shimon, thumbing the swollen head and squeezing every so often and on hitting that spot again and again, until Shimon was a writhing puddle of need against him.

Shimon was whimpering and crying out against him, needy and writhing and bucking, the pain of stretching forgotten in the hot rush of skin on skin, and the wet slide of tongue in his mouth, pressing against him, exploring, making him gasp in the man's taste. Heat was spiralling up, like a rushing hurricane, spinning down and around and losing him in a desperate flood of sensation and wanton need, and finally. Finally, his need exploded, making him cry out, sharper, harder, into Keisuke's mouth, bucking hard against him one last time, spasming.

The sudden wet heat of Shimon's release spattering between their bodies pushed Keisuke over the edge. He arched up hard, thrusting deep into Shimon and groaning deeply against the boy's mouth.  
Shimon mewled, sagging against him, clinging like he was the only thing holding him upright. That had been a very intense experience. Intense enough that it beat every other physical pleasurable experience he'd had to date. He shifted, slightly, whimpering at the hot still hard cock in him, and melted against Keisuke, tilting his head to nuzzle at his shoulder.

Keisuke stroked Shimon's back, fingers of his undirtied hand lightly skimming along the ridge of the boy's spine. He nuzzled the side of Shimon's head, 'mm'ing softly. Everything was all nice and fuzzy and hazy with the afterglow of what was possibly the best sex he'd had in a long time. That really wasn't such a stretch, though, considering he hadn't had any sex in...longer than he cared to think about. Keisuke sighed slightly and kissed the top of Shimon's head. Hopefully, he thought, the boy would be up for a repeat some other time.

Shimon purred at the stroking, wriggling a little to plaster himself more against Keisuke. "Bed," he announced. "In there." He waved even more vaguely towards his room. "Sleepy."

Keisuke shifted, pulling out of Shimon and leaning down to pick his shirt up. He wiped them both off with it, then discarded it in a pile on the floor before standing up, hoisting the boy in his arms and carrying him into the other room. Presumably it was his, being the only bedroom othr than the one he'd gotten the lube from.

The bed was actually just a rather large futon on the floor, and Shimon sprawled bonelessly on it, tugging Keisuke down so he could melt against his side. "Mm. Cold. Blankets," he demanded.  
A few moments of wriggling and shifting had them both comfortably underneath the blankets, Keisuke curling around Shimon and petting him.

Shimon purred and nuzzled him, falling asleep feeling patted and cossetted and overall happy.

That was not the case when he woke up, all but panicking at the ache in his behind and the strange smell of someone ELSE in his bed.  
Keisuke blinked blearily at Shimon when he started moving. "...Mmph?"

"What happened?" Shimon said, scrambling away and collapsing against his bed, whimpering at the ache. "What are you doing in my...." Then last night's memories gleefully crashed into his mind, horrifying him at his own wantoness. "Oh gods," he whimpered, curling onto his side. "I'm a slut."  
Keisuke just blinked, sleep-addled brain not quite able to make sense of all of this. He'd been woken up, in someone else's bed, by said someone else freaking out. That someone was a pretty, woefully underaged looking boy, which explained what Keisuke was doing in his bed, and why he was saying he was a slut.

Ah. That was it.

Keisuke reached out and patted him. "You're not."

"Really?" Shimon sniffed, not quite responding to the patting, but blinking open eyes at him through messy bangs. "... I'm n-not a ... b-because I... was all... w-wanton at you...?"

He was far too cute not to hug. Keisuke pulled the boy into his arms and squeezed him, then loosened his grip slightly and patted his back. "Nothing wrong with liking sex."

Shimon swallowed, a shuddering half-sob. "R-really? You don't think I'm...?" His head was pounding, and his mouth felt horribly dry and disgusting, but it'd be worse if he was a slut too, like Tonbo'd said he was.

Keisuke shook his head. "I don't. Liking sex doesn't make you a slut."

Shimon smiled at him, a slightly wavering and watery smile. "A-alright..." he curled close to him. "... I think... I need a shower? And something f-for the headache." Which wasn't that bad, really. He probably wasn't very drunk last night. Or else it'd be a whole lot worse, right? "...C-can we do that, again? I... I think I sort of like it."  
Keisuke kissed his cheek. "Sure. You should go drink some water, too."

Shimon nodded and wobbled out of the bed. THere was some sounds in the kitchn consequently, the sounds of glass and running water. Five minutes later Shimon was back in his room, carrying a mug of water for Keisuke. "Couldn't handle boiling water," he said apologetically, and handed him the mug before sprawling back on the futon waiting for the painkillers to work.  
He didn't want to go to work today.

"S'okay." Keisuke drank the water gratefully. "So, tell me, any particular time you have in mind for doing it again?"

"When m' headache goes away?" Shimon suggested. "... but I have to go into Intel today... I don't wanna. I dislike Daiki-san. He's a mean person."  
Keisuke patted him sympathetically. "Maybe after work? Though, we do both need to shower..." Hot shower-sex with pretty boys was nice. Hopefully Shimon's headache would go away soon.

"Oh. yeah..." Shimon nodded. "Shower's good..." Then he looked at Keisuke doubtfully. "But I don't have spare clothes in your size..."  
That was something of a problem. "...Well."

Shimon sighed, and sat up, feeling his head start to feel better. that was good. "... I could wash your clothes," Shimon suggested. "We have a small dryer - it'd be half an hour?"

Keisuke looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Some time? Seven, I think," Shimon said, curling to him. "Shower at least? You could wear your old clothes back to your apartment, and get some new ones?"

Keisuke winced slightly. "Damn. I have to be at work in twenty minutes. And, ah...That wouldn't work." He definitely was not going to parade through the streets of Konoha in a shirt stained with semen.

Maybe he could just go to work shirtless? He was in Surveillance, so it wasn't like he did much socializing or anything.

"Oh." Shimon looked pensive a moment. "I'm sorry."

Keisuke shrugged. "It's fine."

Shimon nodded. "...My headache's gone."

"Mm...Would you mind terribly if I joined you for your shower?"

Shimon shook his head. "You have to go soon, right? It'd save time."

Keisuke smiled slightly. Shimon really was so very cute. "Alright." Once they were in the bathroom, Keisuke proceeded to show Shimon just how very fun showers could be.

Shimon went to work with a very happy glow on his face, Keisuke's Surveillance partner, Yajirobee, was traumatised, and Shimon set another of Daiki's plants on fire because he did not like being drunk. And it was Daiki's fault.


	9. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonbo was back at their apartment. Shimon was to all appearances pathetically glad to have him back, cooing over him and adjusting pillows for his back, and kneeling to serve him tea and drinks and feed him little bite-sized pieces of stewed foods.

Tonbo was back at their apartment. Shimon was to all appearances pathetically glad to have him back, cooing over him and adjusting pillows for his back, and kneeling to serve him tea and drinks and feed him little bite-sized pieces of stewed foods.

It had been several days since Shimon had seen Tonbo in the hospital, of course. After that little debacle with Daiki's plant, an introduction to yet another filing room - why did Forgery have so many filing rooms? They might as well be Filing, not Forgery - and then interesting little love-notes from Daiki to Hideyoshi of all people, in mild-mannered, self-effacing Misao's forgery handwriting, with the Taka's ink... well. Daiki might know it was Shimon who did it, but even he had to admit that he didn't quite have enough proof. Shimon had not had the time to go see Tonbo in the hospital as often as he would have liked. Of course, Tonbo's family would be visiting him, and often, and it was enough to give Shimon more than a pang of remorse. It was through his own actions that Tonbo was near death, and obviously his family would be concerned. Even Shimon himself did not quite have the courage to face Tonbo's parents to apologise for his deeds.

But what was right was right, and what was wrong was wrong, and Shimon had gone to apologise, two days ago, only to find both the parents not present - on a mission, Hamushi had said quietly, standing aside to let him in, and handing him tea as a good host would. He had accepted Shimon's apology with quiet aplomb, but at the same time Shimon had no idea what he was thinking, whether he really did understand and forgive Shimon as he said he did.

"I am very sorry," Shimon had said. "For my actions. For hurting your brother. For nearly killing him. While I had not meant for it to be this drastic, or for the consequences to be this dire..." 

"I understand that Tonbo can be very infuriating," Hamushi had interrupted, tone measured and even. "It is not too far a reach that he would go too far one day, and the consequences for him would be devastating. I will pass on your apology to my brothers and parents." His hands were folded neatly on a book on his lap, crossed over the plain paper cover.

Come to think of it, Hamushi might have been sarcastic. Or sardonic. Or angry. Or anything in between. Shimon found him hard to read, and it was not as if Shimon could very well ask him for a sample of his handwriting in order to try and analyse what he meant to say. Where Tonbo was constantly angry, a fury at the world and smirking sneer at anyone, Hamushi was like clear deep water, or the cold tips of a glaciar. Certainly, Hamushi gave that impression - both he and Kamakiri were more difficult to read than their youngest brother. It was no wonder that they were both special jounin. In fact, if he'd been told that they were ANBU, he would not have been surprised, save that ANBU operatives had a tendency to rely overly much on their masks to shield their expressions, while jounin and special jounin did not.

So there it stood - Shimon had officially apologised to the Tobitake family, and they had officially accepted it. Whether or not they were willing to see him again without trying to poison him he did not know.

It was easier to just deal with Tonbo. He was a straightforward case of mutual hate. Of course, Shimon felt guilty for causing his dehibiliation, and he honestly did want to make up for it. However, it was something he could not do, not easily, not with someone as antagonising as Tonbo. He would be nice to him, nurse him back to health - which Kaede had told him he would be doing, since he was the cause of it in the first place - but Shimon would not make it easy for him at all.

There were many ways to care for and help someone, yet infuriate them beyond measure. Perhaps an unconventional attempt and approach, but then, Shimon never did claim to be normal.

If someone had asked him how he felt, Tonbo wasn't sure how he'd reply. For one thing, he was too angry for words. It was one thing to have all the progress he'd made stripped away, no matter how momentarily. It was one thing to be forced to rely on someone he hated for something as simple as eating. It was one thing to be completely and utterly helpless in a way he'd sworn months ago he never would be again. That was all humiliating and infuriating, but it wasn't cause for the sort of rage he was feeling. That would have been cause for rage more at himself, for this weakness, this relapsing back into helplessness.

But it wasn't just that. There was the added fact that the very person who was taking care of him, the roommate he so despised, was also the reason he needed a caretaker. And though he was obviously trying to make amends, caring for Tonbo, simpering apologies at him, and though he seemed sincere enough, Tonbo was just too angry to accept it. If he could have, he would have punched Shimon until he couldn't speak another damn word.

Beneath the anger was a deep...not depression, exactly. Not like it had been that first time, when he hadn't had the will or strength to do anything other than lay in bed and want to die. He didn't even want to think about that, really, about how pathetic he'd been, how utterly helpless. Like an animal with its legs broken, hurt and helpless and unable to do anything but long for release from a life suddenly turned unbearable. He didn't intend to ever let himself get like that again.

But he was unhappy. Scared, almost. Because he'd made so much progress, from hardly being able to keep his useless eyes open to walking and interacting and sparring and functionin, and now it was in jeopardy. In just a few short weeks, everything had been taken from him, the entire foundation of his life swept out from under him by a sickness that took his sight and strength and, for a long time, his will to live. He'd been rebuilding that foundation slowly, agonizingly slowly at times, and it had still been shaky. He had still needed support, had still not been able to rely entirely on his weakened body, on his own depleted strength, but it had been progress.

The relapse had been like a sudden flood, washing away his half-built foundation and bringing him crashing down again. He'd nearly died, too, gone under and nearly been unable to struggle his way back up and get his head above the floodwaters. And Shimon had caused that flood. Shimon had taken away everything he'd built up, and over something so simple and petty as an insult.

It was all he could do not to spit the food Shimon fed him back in his simpering face. It was all he could do to even attempt to be something like civil, and not just growl and curse and rage at Shimon.

And what was possibly the worst was that Shimon didn't appear to have the faintest inkling of just what he'd put Tonbo through. Sure, he knew he'd nearly killed Tonbo and knew it was wrong, but he didn't - couldn't understand the months of rigorous training or the monumental effort it had taken for Tonbo to get to the state he had been in. He couldn't understand how frustrating it was to have his own body betray him, to try to learn to walk and run and fight again on legs as steady as a tower of matchsticks, and to manage it and then have it all taken away again.

"Hate you," Tonbo snarled at him, trying to inject as much anger as possible into his voice, trying to get it across just how much Shimon had taken away from him and how utterly furious he was about it and how very, very badly he was going to hurt Shimon when he was better. "Hate you so much." His voice was too weak, though, thin and strained and wavering more than he'd like it to. He was still recovering, even more fatigued than normal and even achier than he had been. All because of bastard Shimon.

"I'm sorry, Ton-sama," Shimon said earnestly, putting down the bowl on the coffee table. "Do you need a blanket? A cold drink? I'll make it up to you. Honest."  
Well, obviously he still had a sharp fire in him. Tonbo had no intention of dying, it seemed. Shimon leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, smiling beatifically as Tonbo flailed at him.

Tonbo was a bit stronger than he had been just after nearly dying in the hospital, so he managed--mostly by luck--to clip the side of Shimon's head with one wildly flailing fist. "You'll go die? Wonderful!"

Shimon whimpered at him. It hadn't hurt, but he had been surprised and it was unexpected. "But who would take care of you then? Daiki-san and Kaede-san say I am to take care of you - and it is my fault, so I will try and make you feel better in any way I can. Other than dying."  
"Nothing you can do'll make me feel better 'cept you dying." Although, really, he would absolutely love to kill Shimon himself after he'd recovered. Making the insufferable bastard kill himself wouldn't be nearly as satisfying.

"I'm so sorry you feel that way, Ton-sama," Shimon said sadly, kissing him again, just on his forehead. "Would you like hot chocolate then?"

Tonbo smacked at him again. "Quit kissing me."

Shimon caught his hand and nuzzled the palm. "If you wish then, Ton-sama." his voice was soft, more reminiscient of a dove billing. Soft and sweet.  
Tonbo jerked his hand away. "An' stop calling me that."

Shimon sniffed delicately. "If you wish, Ton-darling."

"That isn't any better." He glared at him as best as he could. "Call me by my name."

"Alright, Ton-kun," Shimon said soothingly, patting his hand. "I'll go get you a sponge-bath then, shall I?" He smiled at him and went to get the basin.

Tonbo snarled. "No way in hell." He'd just go without bathing if he had to, but he was not letting Shimon do it for him. "I'll bite your fingers off."

"Oh, don't be silly, Ton-kun." Shimon laughed softly from the kitchen as he filled a basin with warm water. "You don't want to be sweaty and dirty." He ignored Tonbo's growled and snarled curses.

***  
Tonbo had known, of course, that he was considerably weaker than he had been before Shimon had messed with his meds. The fact that he could barely even pummel his insufferable roommate was proof of that.

He hadn't really given much thought to just how bad it was, though. Focusing on that would only make him unhappier, and he'd rather think about how he was going to rearrange Shimon's organs in alphabetical order when he got better.

But earlier that day, he'd tried to stand up, and hadn't even managed a step before his right leg collapsed like a snapped twig under him and sent him tumbling to the floor. The fact that he almost hadn't been able to get back up on his own had been even more humiliating; he didn't want to think about how he'd nearly had to call Shimon in to help him get back into bed. It was embarassing enough in private.

And so, so frustrating. Just last week he'd been able to run laps. Not very many, granted, and not very well, but he'd still been able to do it. To go from that to not even being able to stand anymore... It really was like he'd been landed right back on square one.

Which was why he was curled into a lump of frustrated misery under the blankets, sobbing silently into the pillow and hating the sudden weakness. Hating that he couldn't walk, hating that he couldn't hold back the flood of anger and humiliation streaming wetly down his cheeks, and hating, hating Shimon for doing this to him. Mostly, though, his hatred was directed at himself, at his own weakness, at his own lack of ability. 

Shimon was surprised to find Tonbo sobbing. Quietly, of course, but... "Ton-kun?" he asked, concerned - and guiltily - kneeling by his low-slung bed and patting his arm. "Ton-kun? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He shouldn't have a relapse. The hospital'd said...

There was obviously some sort of potent evil force directing Shimon's movements, making sure he was always there at the worst possible moment. Tonbo snarled weakly, turning and smacking his hand away. "Fine. Great. Peachy. A few months ago I couldn't even stand up, and last week I could jog, and now I'm back to not being able to move again, but I've never been better! And...and quit pretending to care! It's annoying." He was like a fly, constantly buzzing around Tonbo, whining that he was sorry and could he help and did Ton-kun need anything? Tonbo just wanted to swat him.

Shimon drew back, slightly hurt, and feeling more than a pang of remorse. "... I... I do care, Ton-kun. I'm really sorry I... I didn't mean for this to happen." But he'd get better, right? He would... wouldn't he? He was just weak from the operation, and he'd get better, surely?  
"You messed with my meds 'cause you didn't want anything to happen. Right." Tonbo didn't like the near-hysterical quality his voice was taking on. Damn Shimon for making him lose control like that. "Just...Go the fuck away. Lemme be humiliated in peace. S'already bad enough that I can't even feed myself." Which was, again, Shimon's fault, but they both knew it well enough that he didn't need to say it.

Shimon bit his lip, looking down, then back at him. "I... I didn't want this to happen," Shimon said. "I thought it was just anti-depressants - it looked like a similar class of drugs!"

Tonbo let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You...You'd fuck with someone's meds without knowing what they did? I thought you were s'posed to be smart. Oh, I hate you."

Shimon made a soft sound. "I said I was sorry," he said contritely. "I'm trying to help now. Really."

Shimon hadn't thought that Tonbo was so mad about it. Or that it had been so severe. Relapse hadn't really underscored anything to him - because he hadn't undergone it, of course - but when Tonbo was actually crying out of frustration, he couldn't feel anything but remorse for his actions, and for not thinking things through. He should have investigated what that medication had been for, but there had been so little to go on - and he wasn't a medic experienced enough to know at once that it was a new type of drug specifically for Tonbo's disease.

How could he make up for it? How could he show that he was really sorry, and he hadn't meant to hurt Tonbo that badly, he'd only meant to have him suffer a day or two before he deemed him well-punished for the insult? He most certainly hadn't meant to kill him!  
Tonbo really wanted Shimon to just go away and leave him in peace, because getting caught in such a state was beyond humiliating, but he also wanted to make Shimon feel guilty. He wanted to at least try to make Shimon see just what he'd really done. "Wouldn't need help if you weren't such a bastard. Say sorry 'til your teeth fall out, but it doesn't mean you are. Do you even really know what you did?" What you took away from me?"

"I..." Shimon swallowed, shifting away from the venomous tone Tonbo had taken on, hissing at him. "I... I... I'm sorry! I didn't know...! I thought... I didn't..." 

"Answer the question." He wasn't yelling anymore. Instead, his tone was deadly soft, like a snake's quiet hiss right before it struck.

"I... I... I made you relapse," Shimon said, voice nearly inaudible, small. His hands were shaking slightly. "T-ton-kun, Please, I'm really sorry..."  
"You know what that did? Or what it did the first time?" It wasn't something he wanted to talk about. He'd been avoiding the subject entirely in thoughts and words ever since it happened, but the discomfort of revisiting that dark time was worth making Shimon squirm.

"N-no... something w-with your heart. A-and g-going blind..."

The expression on Tonbo's face wasn't a smile. It was entirely unfriendly and showed far too many teeth to be. "Thing is, you don't even know anything's wrong at first, if you have it. Think you've just got the flu or somehting. Then your gut starts hurting bad, and you go to the hospital soon after that 'cause you're puking blood. That is because it's eating you from the inside out. That's what it does. Was down in my stomach the first time, and my leg, and this time it got up in my chest."

There was a muffled gasp from where Shimon was, and Tonbo's smile widened.

Shimon stuffed his hand into his mouth, horrified. That was worse than anything he'd heard of. It was almost like leprosy, or something equally appalling. "I..." Oh gods. And he'd done that to Tonbo?

It had been bad enough knowing that Tonbo'd gone blind from it. It had been frightening enough thinking he might have had it. But that it was so bad? That it'd eat him inside out, and turn him into a quivering, helpless, useless... "Oh gods," Shimon whimpered. "I... I didn't..." He closed his eyes, trying not to think about it. "I'm sorry! I'm so abjectly sorry! I didn't realise... I didn't know...!"

"Should've thought. But you didn't, and now..." He gestured towards himself, indicating his weakened state, the way he was stuck in bed and completely dependent on Shimon. "Right back where I started. Walking used to hurt, but at least I could." Could. Not can. Not can because Shimon had taken that away from him again.

Shimon managed to stifle a sob. He'd done that? He'd done something so. So cruel and heartless and horrible? He... "Oh gods. I... W-what have I done? I... I'm so-sorry, T-ton-kun! I never... I'm so-sorry!"

Tonbo was silent for a few long moments. "I'm so pissed at you. I want to smack you cross-eyed. But you sound like some weepy lady in a bad tragedy, so I won't do it now."

Shimon choked back a sniff. "Really. I'm sorry. I... I would t-totally d-deserve it." Even though he was terrified of being beaten to a pulp, but if Tonbo could do it, it'd mean he was better...

He still didn't want to be beaten, and maybe Tonbo was just in pain. "I... I... I'll get you. Some. Soup." Then he fled.

***

While Shimon was in desperate need of a good beating, Tonbo didn't want to bring it down upon him without adequate warning. As much as he wanted to pummel the bastard, it just wouldn't be as much fun if Shimon wasn't expecting it and couldn't fight back.

So, once he'd gotten better, he'd asked to spar with Shimon and proceeded to beat the stuffing out of him with gusto. He was fairly sure things went 'crack'. Things like Shimon's ribs. And he might have felt a little bit of remorse for that, only it had taken almost three weeks until he could stand and walk like he'd been able to before, so it was, in his mind, completely justified.

After he'd soundly defeated Shimon, all was more or less forgiven. Shimon was still insufferably prissy and a bastard, and they still hated each other, but the little matter of Shimon causing him to nearly die was behind him. Tonbo didn't hold grudges after he'd gotten compensation for whatever wrong he'd been done.

It had hurt, being beaten to a pulp. Shimon had barely managed to put up a proper fight, and when he'd realised what was happening, he hadn't fought back. Much. He had deserved it, after all, only it hurt. He was in agony, whimpering and trying not to cry as the medics set his bones and taped his ribs.

Tonbo was so angry. Shimon didn't dare make him any angrier, not after that. And, of course, he still felt guilty over it, enough that when he ran into Tonbo just before his lunch break, he'd caught hold of the other man. "Ton-kun," he said, worriedly, softly, all but submissive, "are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Tonbo wanted Shimon to stop acting like a beaten puppy. He wasn't angry about it anymore, so there was absolutely no need for Shimon to act like he was going to get his head bitten off if he so much as breathed wrong.

Apparently Shimon wasn't aware of that, though.

"I'm fine. Shimon, really, you should stop the groveling." He shifted slightly, settling his forearm across Shimon's shoulders and pressing him to the wall. "Or, if you just have to continue apologizing, do it right. On your knees." His absolutely lecherous grin made it obvious what he meant.

It wasn't that he really wanted to have sex with Shimon. He didn't like Shimon, and there were plenty of other people he did like who he could get to suck him off, if he wanted. He just wanted to mess with Shimon, fluster and maybe irritate him. Truth be told, not being constantly needled was a little unsettling.

Though there was something appealing about the thought of forcing polite, proper Shimon to writhe and beg and gasp out dirty words...

Shimon gasped at him, as the words sunk in. "Y-you what...? Want me to... to...?" He grabbed hold of Tonbo's arm, about to pull it down and possibly kick him hard, because to be treated like that...

Then he realised... If Tonbo wanted that, then he'd forgive him, right? Then he wouldn't have to feel guilt and remorse anymore. If he ... Anyway, sex couldn't hurt very much, and it was just sex, after all...

"...A-alright..." Shimon's voice said, soft, and just this hint of shamed.

It probably meant there was something wrong with him, but fuck if the way Shimon sounded nearly ashamed didn't turn him on like a light. Tonbo leaned forwards, face close to Shimon, not quite kissing him. "Put that pretty mouth to some good use. Tell me, have you even had sex before?"

If Tonbo could see, he would have seen Shimon's eyes large, dark and dilated. "...Y-yes."  
Was he expecting Shimon to kiss him? That... that he could do. Both Keisuke and Akihiko liked him kissing, so they said... He leaned in that last few centimetres and brushed his lips across Tonbo's.

Tonbo looked a little surprised as he kissed Shimon back, tongue darting into his mouth to taste him. "With who?" He sounded doubtful.

Shimon whimpered at the sudden introduction of tongue. While he was fairly used to tongue being involved in kissing, neither Keisuke nor Akihiko started out directly like that. They let him get used to it. "K-kei... Kei..." Shimon stammered out, cheeks starting to flush.

Tonbo was going so fast. And he doubted that Shimon had had sex...?

No. Relax. This was just sex, wasn't it? Merely sex and he'd done that with Keisuke. And sex had been very nice. Keisuke had been patient and kind, so sex would be nice and warm, wouldn't it...?

Only the expression on Tonbo's face made a shivery almost-thrill go down his spine, made him whimper and curl against the wall - where Keisuke had been gentle, Tonbo's expression was dark, his mouth curved in more than just a smirk, something nearly predatory. It promised something different. Very different from what it was like with Keisuke. He wasn't even sure what that meant, to be different from what he'd had with Keisuke.

Tonbo pressed closer, body flush against Shimon's, deepening the kiss and all but ravishing the other boy's mouth. Those little sounds Shimon was making, soft and scared and shamed, made liquid heat coil low down in his belly, spreading down between his legs and driving him to grind hard against Shimon, drawing another little gasp from him. "Kei who?"

Shimon felt warm. Too warm. Tonbo's close proximity was doing things to him, making him want to run, want to curl up, want to just mewl. "... K-keisuke-s-san."

"Can't say I know him." Tonbo dropped a series of wet little kisses along Shimon's jaw, nipping slightly.

Shimon arched, his head tilting back, whimpering as each kiss sent flickers of flame down his jaw, his throat, shivering along his skin to coil deep and low in his belly. "W-why should y-you? He's a v-very n-nice person."  
Tonbo skimmed the fingers of his free hand over Shimon's thigh, nails scratching over the fabric. "S'probably some old perv. You're such pedo-bait."

Shimon shivered, pressing closer to the wall, flushing. "I'm not. Keisu-suke-san is a gentleman."

Tonbo shifted his hand slightly, moving it to cup Shimon's groin and squeezing. "How much older is he?"

Shimon gasped, hands tightening on Tonbo's arm, his shoulder. "I d-don't know..." What was he doing to him? Making him squirm and mewl, and ... and... fondling him, squeezing him slightly, enough to make his face heat and body warm and warm, warm heat coil in the pit of his stomach, making it difficult for coherent thought. "... D-daiki-san s-said... about. About h-his a-age..."

"Daiki-san's in his thirties. So your guy's a pedophile." Tonbo rotated his wrist, palm rubbing over Shimon's crotch in little circles.

"Is not," Shimon tried to insist, only it came out as a breathy moan as he bucked against Tonbo's hand, mewling little helpless sounds.  
Tonbo made a low noise in the back of his throat, something between a moan and a chuckle. He kept rubbing and squeezing Shimon's growing erection through his pants, making him squirm and make those utterly arousing little noises. "S'twice your age."

"S-so?" Shimon's fingers dug into Tonbo's arms, panting and mewing against him, bucking. His pants was getting way more than tight, and it was too warm, too hot. His face was flushed, and he couldn't stop moaning, soft breathy little sounds. "T-ton-kun...!"

Every little sounbd Shimon made shot straight down to Tonbo's groin, making heat thrill up into his stomach while his hips moved in shallow little jerks against Shimon. "You like this, Shi-chan?" he murmured, lips brushing against Shimon's ear, voice low and smooth and warm like thick, dark syrup. "Want me to touch you more?"

Shimon keened slightly, head falling back against the wall, trapped between it and Tonbo, and gods was it something that just thrilled him, made him pant and squirm and heat, flushing with need. "P-please...Y-yes..."

Tonbo grinned, purring. "Touch you where, Shi-chan? Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"T-touch... me?" What? Tell him? Didn't he know? Just... where ever... Like how Keisuke did it, just touching and stroking - when he asked Keisuke to touch him, the man did it, all over and anywhere, patting and stroking - that was what it was, right?

Tonbo pulled his hand away from between Shimon's legs, so the only contact between them was where their bodies pressed together. "Where, Shi-chan?"

Shimon keened in disappointment, bucking his hips against him, mewing for more. "J-just what you were doing," he pleaded. "Like that, please, t-touch me!"

"Want me to rub your cock, Shi? Or, mm, want me to slide your pants down and pull it out, wrap my fingers around and stroke you?" Tonbo returned his hand to where it'd been and continued rubbing Shimon, squeezing and fondling him and making him buck up and squirm.

Shimon flushed at his words. That was so... explicit. So crude, and it made his ears burn. His own body seemed to find it more stimulating, making him buck against Tonbo's large warm hand, keening in spiralling desperation. "I... y-yes... p-please... t-touch me? S-stroke..." his tongue tripped on the last word, and he couldn't finish the sentence. But that was more explicit than Shimon could normally tolerate anyway.

Tonbo fumbled Shimon's pants open, pulling out his hard cock and slowly, teasingly ran his fingers over it. "Like this? Tell me what you want, Shi-chan. Beg me for it."

Shimon mewled. Oh gods, that was different from how Keisuke touched him - Keisuke's touch was firm, yet reverent, and it was almost like being treated like glass, like gold. Tonbo was ... teasing him. "B-beg...? Please, like that, more...?" He wasn't sure what he wanted, just more. Just... He curled his hands over Tonbo's shoulder, feeling the weave of his uniform with his fingertips. "Please...?"

Tonbo nuzzled the side of Shimon's head, nipping at his earlobe. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do, Shi-chan. Beg for it just like a whore, with all the filthiest words you can think of."

"I... w-what?" Shimon pulled away, blinking. "W-what? H-how can... I d... that's .... that's v-vulgar...!"

"That's the point."

Shimon tried pushing away, but somehow his arms seemed sapped of strength. "I c-can't s-say t-that sort of th-things!"

Tonbo slowly ran a finger up and down the underside of Shimon's cock. "But then I don't know what you want me to do, Shi-chan."

Shimon whimpered, and clung to him, head falling against Tonbo's shoulder as his hips bucked up at him. "I... I d-don't k-know! I... j-just t-touch me..." He swallowed, and tried to think through the teasing inflammatory touch, tickling fire up and curling into his stomach. How had Keisuke done it? "I... just... C-curl y-your fingers around? And. and... m-move your palm?" That sounded about right. "Please?"

Making a softly satisfied noise low in his throat, Tonbo wrapped his fingers around Shimon's length and began pumping him. "Like that, Shi-chan? Is that what you want?"

"Y-yes, aah..." He bucked up, into Tonbo's fist, moaning and closing his eyes, hair falling about his face as he clung to Tonbo, his legs gone wobbly and weak. "M-more... please..."

Tonbo pumped him faster, squeezing every so often, pausing occasionally to thumb the head of his cock or fondle and tease his balls. "Want you to jerk me off, Shi-chan. Want to feel your fingers hot around my cock, stroking and squeezing, just like I'm doing to you right now."

"W-what...?" Shimon started to ask, to protest, when he did something unaccountably clever with his thumb, making him melt and mewl against Tonbo's neck, panting and gasping. "...Ngn... m-more... "

Tonbo did it again, not quite able to hold back his moan as Shimon bucked against him. "Want you on your knees, Shi-chan, lips wrapped around my cock. Want to fuck your pretty mouth until your lips are bruised. Want to pull back and come on your face, so you're licking it off your lips and it's sticky and tangled in your hair. And I'm going to make you beg for it, Shi-chan, beg on your knees like a cheap whore."

Shimon gasped, both in shock and at what Tonbo did with his hand. "I..." He couldn't. Wouldn't. That was... that was too... degrading. "W-won't debase m-myself s-so..."  
Because gods, that sounded so. So... debauched and depraved.

"Oh, but Shi-chan, it'd be so sexy. Sweet, polite little Shimon, begging like a whore to be defiled..." He savored the last word, letting it hiss slowly out between his teeth as he tasted it.

Shimon gasped against Tonbo's neck, whimpering. No. He was not going to beg. Not like that. He didn't want to. Not.. not... Gods. Tonbo's words were so vivid, as if he had spent hours fantasizing about him, thinking about Shimon like that, so degraded, so. So. Cheap and sluttish, writhing on his knees... "W-won't..." Shimon managed to whimper. He wouldn't. Absolutely would not do that. At all. "I w-aaah!"

Because Tonbo suddenly squeezed, and then flicked his balls with a finger, and started up a furious rhythm, pumping him hard and making it hot and gritty rather than slow and emotional. Shimon couldn't say anymore, just whine and moan and plead with his mouth against Tonbo's neck.

By the time Shimon came, Tonbo was writhing against him, panting raggedly against his neck and murmuring obscenities into his ear in a parody of a lover whispering sweet nothings. "Shi-chan," he all but moaned. "Get me off, Shi."

"...H-how...?" Shimon barely could manage, panting wetly agianst him, just able to breathe. He didn't know how to move, let alone get Tonbo off. And he was squirming at the thought of all the words Tonbo'd been murmuring into his ear, burning his mind with their obscenity and filthiness.

"On your knees, Shi-chan. With your mouth." Tonbo wiped his hand off on the leg of Shimon's pants and rested both hands on Shimon's shoulders, exerting a gentle downwards pressure.

Shimon didn't have the energy to resist, sinking down to his knees in bewildered compliance, his hands dragging at Tonbo's arms, his sides. "W-what...?" One just didn't use one's mouth for anything. "T-that's unhygenic..."

Tonbo chuckled. "Your pedo lover's never had you suck him off, then? Or are you just saying I don't bathe?"

Shimon flushed. "'S you d-don't bathe," he muttered, unwilling to admit to the fact that he hadn't realised one could use one's mouth for... other than kissing.

Tonbo patted Shimon's head. "I do. Promise. It's perfectly hygienic."

Shimon blinked up at him. "...Sure...?" Because... he didn't think it was. People... did things with. That equipment. And... He didn't know what one did to suck off anyway. He was also sure he didn't particularly want to suck Tonbo off. Unless that would make Tonbo happy?  
"I'm sure. Ever given a blowjob before, Shi?"

"...Y-yes," he lied through his teeth.

Tonbo was doubtful"Really?"

"Yes." Shimon was not going to show weakness or inexperience to Tonbo. It couldn't be very hard, right? Even Tonbo could do it.  
Tonbo ran his fingers through Shimon's hair. "Then I'm assuming I don't need to tell you what to do."

Shimon swallowed, and leaned agianst Tonbo's hands. "M-maybe I j-just want to know you w-want it." It was better than admitting he didn't know how to.... well...

Tonbo tilted his head back against the wall and thought for a moment. "Mm... Want your mouth around my cock, Shi. Just the head, at first, sucking on that, and then you'll lean forwards, taking me in deeper, 'til your nose is bumping against my stomach and you've got my cock as far down your pretty throat as it'll go. Want you to suck and lick me, and stroke what's not in your mouth with your fingers." He wondered if Shimon could deepthroat. Not likely, given he was almost definitely inexperienced, but damn was it hot to think about.

Shimon swallowed hard. That was... He was face to face with Tonbo's crotch, which bulged out alarmingly at him, and gods, he wasn't... wasn't ... he didn't think he could... but he should be able to, right? It was easy.... right? He reached forward, unzipping Tonbo's fly, and blinked at the. Cock there.

Tonbo apparently didn't believe in underwear. How was that hygienic?

Tonbo shivered at the sudden rush of cold air against his heated skin. "Mm... Hurry, Shi-chan. S'cold. I want to feel your mouth around me, all nice and hot and wet."

Shimon licked his lips, and leaned in, hesitantly licking the tip of him, tasting some clear bitter fluid on the tip of his tongue.

Tonbo arched forwards just slightly, moaning softly. His fingers tightened in Shimon's hair.

The taste was not bad, just not fantastic. It wasn't something he'd want to repeat, really, but if he did it, Tonbo won't be angry anymore... And he couldn't resist Tonbo's hands, his movements, for some reason, his mouth opening to take in more of Tonbo, sucking a little, and breathing as much as he could through his nose.

Tonbo didn't bother to keep his hips from jerking forwards, nearly choking Shimon. "Nng..." The way Shimon gagged, throat spasming around him, drew another low moan from him.

Shimon choked, gagged and tried to pull away, only Tonbo's hands were tight in his hair, and he couldn't help but whine, whine and whimper and try to breathe. Tears were stinging his eyes, and it was... almost a sort of degradation, to be held like this, helpless and small and kneeling, sucking at Tonbo's cock, entirely at his mercy.

It was unbelievably arousing, to have Shimon helpless like that, on his knees and choking on a mouthful of cock and unable to pull away. It wasn't very long at all before he came, hips jerking forwards and grip on Shimon's hair tightening enough that it had to be painful.

Shimon was whimpering, and then choking and gagging and yet he couldn't pull away, held tight in that position, fingers clinging weakly at Tonbo's waist, having no other choice but to swallow. Tears were definitely stinging in his eyes, from the pain, the smell, from choking.

When he was done, Tonbo let go of Shimon's hair, hands dropping to his sides, palms flat against the wall. He was breathing hard, head tilted back against the wall.

Tonbo's cock slipped free of his mouth, and Shimon couldn't stop panting, gasping for breath, his pants wet and soft, head falling against Tonbo's thigh. He couldn't believe... believe that. That. He'd... He whimpered slightly, not quite clinging, not quite sinking down against the floor.

Tonbo leaned back against the wall, legs trembling. After a few moments, he reached down and tucked himself back into his pants. "Nn, Shi..."

"...A-ah?" Shimon glanced up at him, shuddering slightly. Despite the feeling of shame, there was also the warm familiar feel of sated sex, and there too was a slight thrill, at the way Tonbo said his name in dimunitive-form. He shifted, slightly, and tucked himself back in as well, realising that his pants was stained.  
It was so hard to keep from saying that Shimon really was a good slut. BUt there were plenty of other ways to insult him that he could use later. Ways that wouldn't put him in the hospital again. Anyway, he was trying to be nice. Nice for him, anyway, which meant not being as scathing and ceaselessly mocking as he normally was. "Should do this again."

Shimon had been gearing up to stand up, on his wobbly legs, perhaps do something about the taste in his mouth, when Tonbo's words hit him. "... I b-beg your p-pardon?"

"I said we should do this again." Tonbo dropped into a crouch, feeling around for the cane he'd dropped earlier to free up both hands for molesting Shimon. "It was fun."

Again? Why would he want to do this again? "... I-I suppose..." Shimon managed softly, standing up, and trying to straighten his hair. He probably looked a mess.

***

Kaede walked into the Head of Forgery's office. "You owe me five hundred, Daiki," she said, slapping a tape on the desk, on top of the report he was reading. "Or you could take me out on that date your letters keep offering me."  
Daiki glanced up at her briefly. "My, Kaede, you seem to have misplaced a tape right on top of my report. If you want to go on a date, you're paying."

"Oh, wow, I didn't realise you were such a miser, Dai-kun," she said, flourishing a small fan of papers at him, letting him see his own handwriting on it. "After such lyrical promises of true-love too. Such a liar." Her smirk was very sharp. "And watch the tape. Yajirobee from Surveillance came to give me a copy. That's yours."

Daiki set the tape aside, raising an eyebrow at it. "If you wish to be given true love by the writer of those letters, go talk to Shimon-kun. I think maybe he has a crush and is merely too shy to admit it."

"I certainly think so. He's trying to get your attention, Dai-kun," she said sweetly. "Watch the tape now, Daiki. It's ever so pretty, and hot. And it stars your little potted plant."

"He seems to be getting quite a lot of other people's attentions. I'll watch it when I finish this report."

"Uh-huh." She dangled a sheet of paper in front of him. "So if you don't pay up, all of Intel's Head of Departments bore witness. And will hound you in my stead."

Daiki sighed and pulled out his wallet, counting out the appropriate amount to give to her. "There. May I finish my work in peace now?"

She smiled, and gestured at someone outside the office. "Time?"

"Five minutes, Kaede-san."

"Damn," said yet another voice.

"Pay up, Yusuke," Kaede said, with a touch of glee.

"Why didn't you take another five minutes, Daiki?" Yusuke complained as he handed over another two hundred to Kaede.

"If I had, she would have bet it'd take ten minutes."

"But you always take forever to give me my money." Yusuke sighed. "I have to wheedle and whine for a good half hour."

"That's because he has a tape he wants to watch," Kaede laughed. "And would you be punishing the potted plant of yours with yet another filing room? I swear, Forgery is going to become the best organised, instead of the worst, department now."

Daiki sniffed slightly. "We're very well organized. It simply doesn't make sense to other departments."

"Yeah, the system's called, 'Throw everything on the floor and someone else will sort it'," said someone else.

Daiki set the report he'd been reading aside and began reading another one. "I'm glad you're so eager to be the one doing the sorting, Yuki-kun. Very helpful. I'm sure you won't mind prettying up room seventeen at the end of the hall for me, would you?"

"Uh, I have work that I have to finish..." And Yuki scrambled away amid laughter from the other department members.


	10. Supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimon was almost asleep against Keisuke's shoulder when the medic came out.

Shimon was almost asleep against Keisuke's shoulder when the medic came out.

Not came out, but practically banged out of the operation room, jerking Shimon awake, and bouncing on the balls of his toes, covered all over in gore, and inexplicably happy about it. Either he was a sadist and liked seeing dead people, or the operation went well.  
Keisuke stared at him. That much blood couldn't speak of anything good, unless one of the medics had managed to chop a finger off. "Is he...? How did it go?"

"As good as new," the medic chirped, running his hand through his hair, an obviously habitual gesture, probably indicative of happiness, because he was now running bloody streaks through his light blond hair, and nervousness was probably an everyday occurrence, and fidgetting was most likely not allowed in the operating room. "He's nearly awake, Aki-sensei is wheeling him out to a room for observation now, would you like to see him?"  
Keisuke nodded, practically jumping up. "Yeah. I would." Good as new? That was good, though Keisuke found himself wondering how they'd managed THAT. There'd been a grapefruit-sized HOLE in Hayate's chest.

But it was best not to question it.

The medic showed them into the room, trailing little bits of gore and bloodied tissue, and left them alone with Hayate, going out to get scolded by the other medic and shoved into the scrub-room to get scrubbed down. "Now they're going to have to disinfect, you little idiot, what were you thinking?" Shimon could hear dimly.

"But it was a miracle of SCIENCE. We need to..." the male medic's voice trailed off as their footsteps faded down the corridors outside.

Just as they'd said, Hayate was good as new. There was hardly even a mark to show where the wound had been, though the new skin--and Keisuke wondered just when chakra-healing had been able to repair such damage so quickly--looked quite a bit pinker than the skin surrounding it. He reached out, touching Hayate's cheek to reassure himself that the boy really was alive. Warm and alive and breathing, when just a little while earlier he'd been bleeding from a giant hole through him on the couch...

Hayate stirred, eyes fluttering open. "Keisuke-san?"

It took every bit of restraint Keisuke had not to pull him into a tight hug. Squeezing Hayate to death right after he'd been healed from the brink of it would be bad, though. "Yeah. God, you scared me."

"'M fine," he pointed out, shifting and sitting up.

"... You probably shouldn't be sitting up," Shimon said, but the other boy wasn't even showing a sign of pain. Not even laboured breathing. Well, alright, just a little bit of quickness of breath, and his cheeks flushed a little with the exertion, but that was nowhere what he'd expect from huge surgery. Open-chest surgery. "Why were you sent on a mission of assassination?" Shimon asked, pushing a chair over so Keisuke could sit. He glanced around and leaned against the back of the chair. He should probably go back soon. Keisuke-san would want to spend time with his nephew. Who looked all of thirteen. "I wasn't aware that they were so desperate as to send genin."

Hayate blinked at him for a moment. "They're not. I made chuunin a couple months ago. Um...Who are you?" He held out a hand to Shimon, giving him a vaguely apologetic smile. "Sorry. I'm Hayate." Though, when he thought about it, the other boy probably knew that already. He'd been there when Hayate came home.

"Shimon," Shimon took his hand, feeling cool skin against his. He looked like the type who'd always have cool hands. Cool hands, cool pale skin, and even cool dark eyes. "... you're chuunin?" He just about managed to keep the surprise out of his voice. "That's... you're about twelve."

Hayate didn't quite pout. "I'm thirteen."

Well. That was still young, Shimon thought, with all his worldly senority of three years. "I apologise," he said instead. He glanced to Keisuke, and back. "You look very much like your uncle."

Hayate nodded. "Yeah. It's because he's my mom's sister, and I take more after her than my dad."

Keisuke couldn't help smiling slightly. They were both so cute.

Shimon nodded, an almost worldly gesture. "I see. You must be talented," he said, smiling sweetly at Hayate. "How are you feeling, then? You were in a really bad way... ten hours ago." Which meant Shimon really should be getting back home, have a shower and get to work. But he'd much rather stay here.  
Hayate considered for a moment. "I feel fine." His head felt a bit fuzzy, but that was probably just painkillers or anesthetic or something. And his chest sort of itched, like just-healed scrape, but that was much better than when there'd been a big gaping hole in it. That had HURT. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Shimon shifted a little. "... I suppose you'd like to talk to your uncle, alone? I should be getting back home, anyway, and getting a shower." Hayate'd bled all over the couch. Shimon could still smell the blood when he thought about it.

"Alright." Hayate smiled. "Have a nice night."

Keisuke leaned back and patted Shimon's arm. "Sorry about this. I'll make it up to you later."

"It's fine," Shimon said, smiling and impulsively leaning in to kiss Keisuke's cheek. "Do you need me to tell... uh, your superior?" whoever it was " that you won't be coming in today?"

"You know Yajirobee, right? Have him tell Aya-san for me, if you could."

Hayate waited until Shimon had left to glance over at his uncle and murmur, "Isn't he a bit young for you, Keisuke-san?"

Keisuke leaned over and lightly thwapped his shoulder. "Shush, you."

***

Tonbo appreciated his family. He really did. And he loved his brothers dearly.

From a distance. When they were invading his apartment just to bug him, he wasn't too very fond of them. "What do you two want, again?" He made the best of the situation by settling himself into Kamakiri's lap and hugging him in a very successful attempt to freak him out.

"Just checking to see you aren't wasting our money's worth and dying again," Hamushi said, settling back into a comfortable cross-legged posture on the small carpet, leaning back against the coffee table. He watched Kamakiri try desperately to peel Tonbo off him.

"Aw. I love you too." He nuzzled Kamakiri's neck, sniggering at his brother's yelling. "Kama-kun, don't you love me? I'm so hurt."

"If I didn't love you, you'd be picking up bits of your masculine anatomy off the opposite wall," Kamakiri said, squirming away. "Quit sticking your hands down my pants!"

Tonbo blinked at him. "I'm not. My hands are on your back. See?" He drummed on Kamakiri's back to prove it. "That's going a bit too far. Ew."

Kamakiri stopped, and then looked down. "Well, fuck SOMEONE'S groping me down there!" He shoved Tonbo off him violently, and breathed easier when he felt the hands wrenched away. "Stop messing with your chakra shit, Tonbo!"  
"I'm not doing anything with my chakra!" Tonbo protested. "I totally wore myself out with training today. You'd know if I was doing stuff with my chakra because I'd be passed out in your lap."

"Which he'd love to do," Hamushi observed.

"And I'd kick his head across the room," Kamakiri said. "He can pass out, but not on MY lap." And anyway, the stupid hands thing was gone. "And how would I know whether you weren't messing with chakra? You do all kinds of horrible things. I should totally tell on you to Ma."

Tonbo rolled his eyes. "What are you, five? I wasn't doing anything. And anyway, I can't MOLEST you with my chakra."

"I wouldn't put it past you to figure out something," Kamakiri muttered, and relaxed a little more on his end of the couch. "Keep your octopus hands away from me."

Tonbo shifted back over to his brother, kneeling over his lap and running his hands down Kamakiri's chest. "But I just love groping you so much! You have such a wonderfully MANLY body!"

"GYAH!" Kamakiri twisted, and planted his feet FIRMLY in Tonbo's chest, and shoved. "quit stroking me! And STOP shoving your HANDS down my PANTS!"  
Tonbo fell back with a breathless 'oof'. "Did you wake up retarded or something? I've only got two hands, dumbass, and they were both on your stomach."

Hamushi sighed, and sprawled with his legs loose and stretched out. "It's a poltergeist, Kama," he said finally.

"... A poltergeist. WHY is a poltergeist molesting me?" Kamakiri patted himself down. "Or maybe it's the damn couch. How often have you had sex on it, little brat?"

Tonbo thought for a moment. "Um...only a couple. I started using my room instead after the third time Shimon walked in. Apparently I'm defiling the couch and he can't deal with it or whatever."

"... that's about three times less than the number of times I walked in on Tonbo having sex on the couch," Hamushi said thoughtfully, as Kamakiri got off with exaggerated care and joined Hamushi on the floor.  
Tonbo stretched out, propping his feet up on the other armrest. "Except now the bastard keeps coming into my room. I think he's TRYING to catch me screwing. Remind me to tell him he can just watch if he wants."

"I suspect it'd help if you didn't keep taking chocolate sauce into your room," Hamushi said. Kamakiri made soft gagging noises.

Tonbo grinned. "Chocolate sauce is fun. If it bugs him so much, he should at least KNOCK."

"He probably did," Hamushi said, utterly unruffled. "You probably didn't hear him."

"Yeah, you little perv- QUITE MOLESTING ME, you BRAT!" Kamakiri leapt up away from the couch. "Tonbo, I'm going to seperate you from your nuts if you don't STOP it!"

Tonbo stared in Kamakiri's general direction like he'd just declared the moon was made out of fish. "What the hell? You can SEE both my hands!" He waved his hands at his brother before crossing them over his stomach again. "I'm not molesting you, you paranoid freak!"

"... the poltergeist is usually the manisfestation of troubled teenage angst," Hamushi said.

Kamakiri paused. "... Tonbo-angst? Tonbo-angst is MOLESTING ME?"

"Oh, yeah. My angst just loves your cock, Kama." Tonbo rolled his eyes. "I am not angsty or troubled."

"... Ew. Tonbo-angst is... ew..." Kamakiri dashed for the bathroom. "I'm going to KILL you when I'm clean! Where's the bleach?"

"Don't blame your horny ghost infestation on me!" Tonbo called after him. "Jerk."

"WHo else can he blame?" Hamushi asked. "You do try to have sex with him every five minutes or so since you were thirteen."

Tonbo waved a hand dismissively. "I've never actually stuck my hands in his pants or anything. That's nasty. Anyway, it can't be my poltergeist. I have no angst."

Hamushi didn't say anything. But the silence roiled with the memories of Tonbo lying on his bed, throwing up blood, and refusing to eat, until one day a creepy-ass seventeen-year-old came and slapped him into anger.

Tonbo leaned over and flailed at the air until he found and thwacked Hamushi's shoulder. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Hamushi shifted away, and gently - but very VERY firmly - caught Tonbo's hand and pushed it back onto the couch. If it happened to be nearly bending in the wrong direction, it really wasn't his fault.

Tonbo pulled his hand away, wincing. "Shut up with your meaningful silence. Or whatever. You know what you were doing. Did Kama drown himself in the toilet?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Hamushi pointed out. "And you know our nii-san. He could find a way to drown in a cup of water."

Hamushi was interrupted by a piercing scream. "FUCK! Not AGAIN! Stop molesting me psychically!"

"It's like he's obsessed with me molesting him. Kama," Tonbo called, "if you want sex, all you have to do is ask!"

He got a scream in reply, and Kamakiri was slamming out of the small bathroom. "It stuck FINGERS down my ASS!"  
Tonbo made a face. "Ew. I'm sorry. I was going to suggest an exorcist, but I think you need an adult instead."

"I'm an adult," Hamushi volunteered.

"What?" He asked, when both his brothers turned to stare at him. "I am."  
"Hey, you actually said something that wasn't a statement for once!" Tonbo leaned over and patted him. "Good job."

"... yeah," Kamakiri said, as Hamushi sighed and let himself get patted like a dog. "How rare. Now WHAT are you going to do about your stupid teen-angst?! It's trying to fuck me!"

"My teen-angst--which I don't have, by the way--is not trying to fuck you. Poltergeists throw things, not molest people. Go talk to a priest or something."

"Perhaps it's Tonbo's mind," Hamushi said, standing up. "...I'll walk you to an exorcist, shall I?"

"If I kill Tonbo would it help?"

"Probably not," Hamushi said, though he did give Tonbo a considering look.

"If you kill me," Tonbo informed him, "I'll haunt you and rape you in your sleep."

"... Help is definitely needed, but not for me." Kamakiri looked ill. Even Hamushi looked slightly uneasy.

"What? I think I'm entitled to some revenge if you kill me." Tonbo pouted slightly.

"Your own brother?" Kamakiri asked, voice only slightly wavery. "You molest me every moment you could since I was eighteen, and then you do it with your MIND and now you'd rape me in my sleep? Gods, I obviously am not getting any breaks, am I?"

"... no," Hamushi said. "The gods hate you."

"I am not molesting you with my mind!" Tonbo pouted more. "I HUG you. And occasionally KISS you. I have no interest in shoving my hands down your pants. And I'd only rape you if you killed me."

Kamakiri leaned over, and bocked him. He really liked that sound - the sound of Tonbo's head making intimate acquaintance with a wall. "No rape-age."  
Tonbo flailed at him. "Bastard. Fine, fine, I won't rape you."

Kamakiri let him go. And then squealed when COLD hands goosed him. He bocked Tonbo again.

"Ow! What the hell was THAT for?" Tonbo smacked at Kamakiri.

"You goosed me! I'm leaving. Stupid brat. Come here to make sure he's not dead and he off and gooses me with friggin' cold fingers."

Tonbo smacked him again. "How many times do I have to tell you it's not me?"

Kamakiri caught his wrist. The very same one that Hamushi had twisted back, but how was he to know? He bend it back all the same. "Stop hitting me, little brother."

Tonbo yelped and yanked his hand away. "Stop smacking my head against the wall, then."

"I'll just let us out now," Hamushi said, apparently not hearing either of them. "I think there's an exorcist down in... hmm... Oak Street, Kama. We'll take a look."

"Yeah," Kamakiri said, quite satisfied.

Tonbo waved at them, pushing Kamakiri away. "Bye. Have fun getting ghost-raped, Kama."

"May you throw your stomach lining up," Kamakiri wished him piously, and shut the door behind him.

"Bastard," Tonbo muttered at the door.

***

Shimon still couldn't sit comfortably. Shifting hurt, but hurt just less than sitting straight, and he did NOT like it. Not one iota. Not one tiny bit. At all. The thought of getting back at Daiki had flitted across his mind, but it faded away like morning mist, because he didn't want to get hurt. What if Daiki decided to slap him? Or break a leg or something? He sighed, and wondered wistfully how Keisuke was doing. Or Akihiko. Neither of them were in, of course. And he didn't have receptionist duty so he couldn't see Yajirobee outside of looking for him in the morning to tell him Keisuke wasn't coming in.

Hayate was cute. And very mature for his age. In fact, a lot of thirteen year olds these days were pretty mature - far more than a certain seventeen-year-old Shimon would not name. He nibbled the end of his brush, and didn't quite drift in thought, thinking about how talented a boy had to be to make chuunin at thirteen. Not what Shimon wanted, of course. Fighting and brawling was not Shimon's style.

He was jerked out of his thoughts - what was he going to cook today? - when a shadow fell across his desk. He glanced up, and managed to plaster on a polite smile.

Shimon did not quite like Endo Gorou. For some reason, the pale, blond man had asked to ... well. Had propositioned Shimon a week ago. In terms cruder than even Tonbo could think up, and that was quite a feat. Shimon had of course turned him down.  
"Gorou-san," Shimon said, shifting as surreptitiously as he could. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Gorou smiled at Shimon. "I was wondering if you'd like to spar with me later."

Shimon's smile wavered, just a little. Well. it was just a spar, wasn't it? Just something really innocent. Nothing else. "... alright." Shimon put his brush down, and picked up a sheaf of papers. "Perhaps when you next have a break?" Lunch-hour was in half an hour. Perhaps... if the spar was a quick one....  
Gorou nodded. "Alright. At lunch, then? I'll make sure to make it quick."

Shimon smiled faintly. "That is fine."

Lunch came too quickly for Shimon's liking; at precisely one o'clock, Gorou was again at his desk, giving him an unreadable look. Shimonstood a little too quickly, forgetting how his rear hurt, and bit his lip. "... ah. Gorou-san. Where do you want to spar?"  
"The training grounds right by the entrance. It's easiest to get to." He went outside with Shimon, leading him with a hand on his shoulder.

Shimon walked a little faster, wincing slightly, but it meant he avoided the hand. "Alright."

He pulled a set of sparring clothing out of his locker, changing out of the genin-uniform into the looser pants and shirt. Even though Intel operatives weren't 'active' like the normal shinobi were, they still had scheduled physical training on a weekly basis, sparring only one of the activities they did regularly. Gorou met him at the training grounds, empty despite the time of the day, and Shimon bowed to him, signalling the beginning of the spar.  
True to his word, Gorou kept it quick. He didn't hold back, and though Shimon was quick and agile, Gorou was faster and stronger and soon enough he had Shimon pinned on the ground. Grinning, he ground down against him, a quick roll of his hips against Shimon's while his hand slid up under the boy's shirt, groping over his chest and pinching a nipple.

Shimon gasped, flushing suddenly, and bucked. "Gorou-san!" What... what was he doing? His skin crawled under his touch, making him shiver and he squirmed desperately to get away. The pin, however, was unbreakable, unless SHimon was willing to dislocate his elbows.

Gorou ground down against him again as he bucked up, moaning softly, just loud enough for Shimon to hear, and then pulled his hand away, letting the boy buck him off.

Shimon scrambled away, eyes wide and hair in disarray, heart racing a mile a second. "...I..." Oh gods, he'd.... He'd... He almost bit his lip clear through, and tried to flee.

 

Gorou broke into a short sprint to catch up with him, then put a restraining hand on Shimon's shoulder. "Where're you going, Shimon-kun? Are you not going to finish?"

Shimon kicked at him, utterly uncoordinated, just lashing out. "No...!" he cried out, unable to break free. "I..." Gods, he was terrified, being pinned again, now he was being held still, and he was... no. No. NO.

Looking startled, Gorou let go. "I'm sorry, Shimon-kun. What's wrong?"

Wrong? What was wrong...? Shimon opened his mouth, about to tell him...

Only... what if Shimon was mistaken? What if it had been a mistake? Something... something innocent? Maybe he'd imagined it. He wouldn't... Gorou wasn't that kind of person, right? Even if... even if Shimon had turned him down...? Shimon swallowed, inhaling once. Twice, deeply, trying to calm. Then opened his eyes again. "N-nothing. I..." He paused, tried again. "I was just... nothing. If... if.. you want to continue...?"  
Gorou's look turned to one of concern. "You seem upset. Maybe not. How about some other time? You should go get lunch and calm down." He patted Shimon's shoulder.

Shimon couldn't help the flinch at his touch, his eyes wide like that of a hunted deer. "... Y-yes, I should..." He swallowed, took one wobbly step back. "I'll just... just... Go..."

Gorou smiled and nodded. "See you some other time. Tomorrow, maybe?"

Shimon nodded, on automatic, and fled as fast as he could.

***

When Shimon went home, he went straight to the shower. He'd taken one in the Intel showers, opting to skip lunch entirely, and had nearly jumped everytime he thought he saw Gorou. He'd hoped it would wear off as the day went, and it did, but once home, he felt his skin crawl, and had to take a shower.

So he was reading on the couch, clad in a set of two-layer yukata - it was a fashion item, and he really liked it, soft woven hemp outer robe and silk lined inner robe - his hair dampening the armrest of the couch.

Tonbo came home a little later than Shimon, looking rather rumpled and also very smugly satisfied with himself. "Hey, move over," he said, nudging Shimon's legs out of the way and sitting down on the other end of the couch. "Hikaru's going to be comnig over later, so don't bug me, alright? I figured I'd warn you in advance, since you always get so uset about walking in."

"You're so promiscuious..." He sniffed for emphasis. "I won't bug you. Who'd want to walk in on a manwhore?" A nice crude term that Tonbo had to understand, seeing that Shimon had overheard it in the cafeteria.

Tonbo snorted. "Like you're NOT."

Shimon stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're always fooling around with those guys. Keisuke-san and what'shisface...Akihiko-san. So hey, pot, my name is kettle. We're both pretty black, aren't we?"

"I do not fool around with..." Shimon inhaled, feeling his heartrate go up. "I am not.... not a ...."

"Slut?" Tonbo suggested. "No, you totally do. Oh, and Yajirobee. He told me about how he blew you the other day." Just before the man had blown HIM, but Tonbo figured Shimon probably didn't want to know that.

Shimon felt colour drain from his face, the word just echoing in his mind. Slut. Slut. Slut.

He barely managed to keep his book from falling, his fingers suddenly going nerveless and cold. He stood up abruptly. "... I hope you have a pleasant night," he said, voice not quite wavering, and then he walked - walked - to his room. Closed the door. Quietly.  
Tonbo blinked. That was...odd. Not how he'd expected Shimon to respond. Normally the other teen would've yelled at him or something.

Ah well. Maybe he was just tired. Tonbo could bug him more tomorrow, when he was awake enough for it to be fun.

There was no movement or sound from Shimon the next morning.

Tonbo knocked on Shimon's door just before he left. "Hey, get up! You have to go to work!"

There was no answer. Not even a shift of fabric.

Was he dead? Tonbo knocked again, harder, and then tried the doorknob. It wasn't locked.

"Shimon?" he asked, stepping in. "I know you're in here. What's up?" He could feel Shimon's chakra, but it was erratic, all jumbled up. Something was wrong with him. Maybe he was just sick or something...? At that thought, Tonbo took a slight step back. Though he was sure Shimon wouldn't have anything serious, even the flu could wreak hell on his weakened immune system. With his luck, it'd probably turn into pneumonia or something. "Have you contracted the plague?"

Shimon sort of heard him, but didn't make a move to even think about answering. If he were to just go away, maybe he could die in peace.  
Tonbo took a few steps forward, reaching out and poking at Shimon with his cane. "Oi. Shimon. Get up, lazy bastard."

There was a little whimper, and then silence. There was barely any breathing in the room.

Tonbo poked him a little harder. "Shimon?"

Fabric shifted, and Shimon gasped, slightly. And then silence fell again.

Tonbo sat down on the edge of the bed and rapped his knuckles against Shimon's head. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Shimon made a muffled cry and curled away from him. "Go 'way," he managed, only his voice was so soft and muffled from within the blankets and under the pillows, he wasn't even sure Tonbo heard him. Not that he cared - if he thought he was dead that was even better.

Tonbo prodded at him. "You need to go to work."

"You go on ahead," Shimon shifted a little, and curled up tighter. "Don't be late on m' account."

Tonbo sighed. "Fine. I'll just tell Daiki-san you didn't feel like coming in, shall I? I'm sure he'll be thrilled." He didn't want to be late, though, especially not because of SHIMON, so he got up and set off.

***

Kaede didn't like getting paged in the middle of work. Okay, so she was fobbing things off onto Ibiki, but the boy was eager to please - or else he'd get to see some of the more creative things she was working on - who was she to not give him work?

She followed the not-so-new T&I agent into the main office, and slapped on the device, its little yellow light indicating Forgery. "What is it, Daiki?" she growled. "I have work to do!"  
"I'm sure you're having a difficult time making your subordinates do everything for you," Daiki said. "My apologies. Could you ask Tonbo-kun where Shimon-kun is? He didn't come in today."

"He's probably hiding from you and your belt," Kaede snorted, "Unlike you, I don't have to chase people down to get them to do anything. I'll have a chat with Tonbo. Over and out." She shut down the silly device with great satisfaction, and sent the T&I agent off to fetch Tonbo.

"Tonbo-kun," Kaede said without preamble, looking at a report, "Shimon's boss wants to know where Shimon is."

He'd been a bit worried when he was told that Kaede-san wanted to speak with him. Not because he'd DONE anything--he wasn't SUICIDAL--but rather because she was SCARY.

It was a little weird that she was asking about Shimon. "He's at home, sulking or something. I tried to get him to come in, but he just kind of laid there and told me to go away."

Kaede looked at him for a long, silent moment. The effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that Tonbo could not see her look at him, but the silence, and how the room temperature seemed to drop several degrees certainly helped.

"Tonbo-kun. Tell me what you think room-assignments are for, other than making sure you all have a roof over your heads?"

Tonbo sighed slightly. "It's something sappy like making sure there's someone to keep you from drowning yourself in the toilet or whatever, isn't it? I tried to figure out what was wrong, but I also didn't want to be late because Shimon was moping."

The room temperature remained that cool even keel. "You should have paged in that you were going to stay with Shimon till someone was sent to check up on you. How long has it been, Tonbo-kun?" She didn't need to know; she could figure that out herself. Tonbo came in at eight. it was nearly twelve now. Shimon was a very clever kid - four hours was more than enough time for him to go kill himself in creative ways. "Go home right now."

She'll tell Daiki, and alert Surveillance to turn on the room-cameras.  
"Alright. When do you want me to come back?" Damn Shimon. Why was it that he ALWAYS managed to inconvenience Tonbo?

"When you are convinced he's not going to kill himself. Or if he's dead."

"Alright." Tonbo really hoped Shimon wasn't dead. He suspected that that wouldn't end well for him.

Luckily enough, when he got home, Shimon was still alive. Huddled in an unmoving lump under his blankets and hardly breathing, but alive. "Hey, Shimon. What's up?"

He didn't get an answer. Shimon was barely aware of anything, other than an irritating presence refusing to let him alone to fade away.

Tonbo leaned over and grabbed Shimon's shoulders, pulling him upright. "What's the matter with you?"

Shimon keened weakly, squirming at the the sudden vertigo of being upright all of a sudden. "Leggo," he managed, trying to kick him, only his legs were all tangled up with blankets and sheets.

Tonbo leaned him against the wall and poked his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Shimon squirmed away from him, trying to curl up in the corner. "N'thin'."

Tonbo rolled his eyes. "Right. Sure. That's why you're moping. What happened?"

Shimon refused to answer, shuddering. It was suddenly so cold, and the effort to say anything... "Nuthin'. G'way. Wanna die in peace."

Tonbo thwapped the side of his head. "Don't be stupid. What for?"

His roommate shuddered, and curled up smaller, whimpering. "d-don't you hate me? Just go away and let me die."

"I'll get in trouble if you die." He thwapped Shimon again. "Why do you want to die?"

Tonbo wouldn't go away unless he told him something. "'cause 'm a slut. Now go 'way."

Tonbo blinked a couple of times, and then hit Shimon again. "That's no reason to want to die. Anyway, you're not really a SLUT. You've only been with, what, three guys? That's not too bad."

Shimon whimpered, took the hit, and flopped over onto the bed like a rag doll. "... but you said.."

"I was just trying to piss you off. God, you're so touchy. It's like living with a little girl." Tonbo smacked him again just for hte hell of it.

"but I am!" Shimon curled away, hiding his face, trying not to sob with the hurt of being... being a slut.

Tonbo smacked him this time, right across the face. "And so what if you are? That's no reason to sulk and mope and want to die."

Shimon cried out weakly, curling up into a tight ball. He couldn't help it, he just started crying.

Tonbo just stared. God damn it, why did Shimon always put him in all these awkward moments? Stupid bastard. After a moment of sitting there looking like a stunned herring, he reached out and awkwardly patted at SHimon's shoulder. "Um...please don't cry?"

"Y-you're right," Shimon said, not appearing to notice Tonbo's pats. "'m j-just a s-slut, t-tha's why he... h-he... and... and..."  
Tonbo's patting stopped for a moment. That's why he... Had someone done something to Shimon? "That's why who did what?"

There was only soft sobs in answer.

Tonbo pulled Shimon upright again and lightly slapped his cheek. "Shimon. What happened?"

"W-was a s-slut."

"That was fantastically unhelpful. Who is this guy you're talking about? What did he do?"

Shimon sniffed and stayed limp in Tonbo's arms. "... Was m'my fault..." Shimon said, dropping his head away, face flaming in shame. He wanted to die, but Tonbo wouldn't let him.

He didn't deserve to die. "... Said.. said y'yes to..."

"To what? Quit trailing off like that." Tonbo lightly smacked him again. It wasn't exactly nice to be taking advantage of the situation to hit Shimon, but, god, he'd wanted to smack the boy for MONTHS. Anyway, it was helping. Sort of. "Tell me what happened."

 

Shimon keened at the abuse, mewling like a kicked kitten. "... he. he... I... Must have... must have been wrong." Gorou wouldn't... wouldn't... he was just a slut, must have given him a wrong impression...

Tonbo sighed and hit him again. "Just tell me what you think happened, okay?"

Shimon whimpered and flopped on him, trying not to cry at all the pain. Pain was good. Pain was just pain and he deserved pain because he was a dirty, dirty slut. "... a-asked t-to s-spar. A-and... I... I thought.. he... t-to... but. But that's... normal, right? 'm just a slut and. And. m-made him... I.."

Trying to figure out anything after 'asked to spar' made Tonbo's head hurt too much. "Okay, explain that in full sentences, without leaving out the bits I don't know on account of not being able to read your mind." After a moment of thought, he smacked Shimon again. Smacking made him talk. Maybe he could train Shimon into doing whatever he was told if it was followed by a slap. That'd be fun to abuse.

Shimon mewled at that, curling in on himself. "... he asked to spar. and. and. He touched... and. .. and... I musta. Musta... done something so he thought... or I was mistaken..." He whimpered. He hurt all over. Inside and out.

Tonbo blinked. Some guy asked Shi to spar, and did...soemthing, and now Shimon was crying and saying he was a slut. Didn't exactly take a genius to figure THAT one out. "Some asshole molested you while you were sparring?" It wasn't that he cared that it had happened to Shimon so much as he cared it had HAPPENED. Tonbo would be the first to admit that he wasn't a very nice person, but things like that were just sick. It was one thing to beat on someone; they healed from that. Being molested fucked people up in the head for a while, though.

"He... he wouldn't... I.. I must have. I... I must be m-mistaken....'s not molest..."

Tonbo smacked him again. "Did you want him to? Did you say he could? If not, then it was. What did he do, anyway?"

Shimon whimpered again, flinching at the hit. The smack resounded across the room. "... I... he... I d-didn't.. but I agreed to the sp-spar, w-when I... when a-after I turned him d-down... 's my fault. He must have thought I ..."

Tonbo stared for a moment, too shocked to hit him. "Shimon, sparring does not equal permission to grope you! What are you, stupid?"

Shimon curled up to himself. "... he... but he ... I must have been mistaken. Gorou-san wouldn't have..."

OKay. So he had a name. That was good. Once he got what had happened out of Shimon, he was going to go talk to Kaede-san. SHe'd know who he was. "What did he do, exactly?"

"... he..." Shimon's voice dropped down, soft and low. "stuckhishandupm'shirt."

"Right. Is that all?"

Shimon's face was red with shame and his skin crawled at the memory of.. of... "... yes," he said. It was bad enough that he'd done that - he didn't want to let Tonbo know that Gorou'd ... touched him and... and...

Tonbo lightly smacked the side of his head. "You're lying."

The cry was small, broken and very ashamed. "... h-he did nothing else...!"

Tonbo hit him again. "You're a bad liar. What else did he do?"

"Nothing. Nothing..." Shimon broke down into little sobs that made him choke and cough, the only thing holding him up was Tonbo's hands. "... he.. he really d-didn't do anything..." Tonbo'd know he was a slut if... if he told...

Tonbo awkwardly patted him again. "Shut up and tell me what he did."

Shimon shuddered. "He... he really... a-anyone wou... it was m-my fault. He... 'm overreacting. He just... it must have been an accident. T-touching m-my... mynipple...." the last two words ran together, and he was so ashamed, his voice fell almost inaudible.

"Yeah, uh, Shimon, I'm pretty sure there aren't any jutsu that involve nipple-grabbing." Tonbo patted him again. "That's called sexual assault. Anything else?"

Shimon's voice was shaking by now, almost unintelligible. Gods, Tonbo must think he's loose, easy and a slut. And possibly a harlot. "... just... g-ground a-against 'm... but.but... but that's. Normal... in spars.."

Tonbo slapped his cheeks a couple of times. "It's really kind of not. Getting all up close to you, sure. Even pinning you and straddling you sure. But typically your opponents don't grind against you. Once again, sexual assault. Is that all?"

shimon sniffed, panting now with pain and the inability to breathe through a stuffed nose. Plus, his face hurt. "... y-yes."

"Alright. Um...If I leave you here, will you promise not to off yourself?" He needed to tell Daiki-san about this.

Shimon nodded miserably. He didn't even deserve to die. Or anything. Just get beaten and abused and smacked around and his body used because he was just a slut.

"Okay. Hey, what was that guy's name, again?"

"... Gorou..." Shimon lifted his head. "... it's not his fault! I... I must have... he... I don't know, I'm a slut and..."

Tonbo smacked him. "Full name."

"E-endo G-gorou..."

The next smack was gentle, almost a pat. "Thanks. Alright. I'll be back."

The first thing he did when he got to Intel was look for Kaede-san.

"So I take it he isn't dead yet." she didn't turn to look at him, instead continued watching the live-feed from Surveillance had transferred into her office. "Surveillance doesn't have audio in private rooms so you're going to tell me what he said, and why it looked like it warranted smacking him till he cried."

"I'm almost positive he didn't start crying because I smacked him. Um... Apparently he sparred with some guy, and the guy molested him. So now he thinks he's a slut and deserves to die." Tonbo scowled. "That's why I smacked him, by the way."

"I see. Your interrogation skills are crude, but it seems effective." The lip-reading seemed to corroborate with that story anyway. How fortunate tat Tonbo happened to hold Shimon up just at the right angle for the cameras to see. "And what else did he deign to tell you?"

"He told me what the guy did. And his name."

"A name would be good. What he did would be very good."

"Endo Gorou. And..." He thought for a moment, remembering what Shimon had said, and parroted it back to Kaede-san. It took a bit of effort to keep from trying to mimick Shimon's voice, too, but he doubted Kaede-san would appreciate him sobbing at her.

"Endo Gorou." Familiar name... She thought a moment, and then tapped at the paging system. "Archives. Human Resources - Find me an Endo Gorou."

She just let her mind record and accept what Tonbo'd said had happened to Shimon, comparing that with what she'd seen Shimon say. She was not letting herself react to the meanings at all. That would be for Daiki to do.

When HR spat back the page that there was only one Endo Gorou, in Forgery, well. She was going to be working with Daiki on this one, then. "Thank you Tonbo. You're dismissed. Go home, take care of your roommate." She'll page Daiki, and then discuss the need to send a therapist to Shimon. Or something like that.  
Tonbo nodded and left.

***

Kaede was writing out the transcript when Daiki came in. "How was your chat with Gorou-san?" She asked, without looking up. "An impromptu interrogation of your poor rookie." She tossed the completed file onto the other side of the desk.

Daiki picked it up and scanned over it. "Naturally, he denies doing any such thing. I don't think Shimon-kun would lie about something like this, but it's his word against Gorou-san's. I'll have to look over the videos of the training field that day."

Kaede pressed a buzzer, and Yajirobee from Surveillance - came in with a stack of videos. "All of the training fields from the day," Yajirobee said. "Yesterday, and I sorted out all the sparring videos that featured Shimon yesterday. If you need Aya-san, she's available in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Daiki took the stack from him and set it on his desk, taking one and popping it into his VCR.

Kaede sat back, propping her feet up on the edge of the desk, looking boneless and predatory. "... now that is interesting," she said, "What does shimon-kun look like to you?"  
"Mm. Not particularly happy about it." Not quite nervous, exactly, but like he'd be happier when the spar was over. Interesting. Daiki would have to look into any previous encounters Shimon may have had with Gorou.

"Precisely what I thought, but I can't make judgement calls, since I don't know Shimon-kun as well as you do." Kaede touched her fingers to her chin, watching Shimon bow to the Gorou, and the spar. Then how Shimon suddenly leapt away like he'd caught fire. "Pause it there. Back again."

Daiki paused and rewound it, then played it again, slowing it down. Something had definitely happened in between Gorou pinning Shimon and Shimon jumping away, but the angle was all wrong and he couldn't see anything. "Let me see if I can find that from another angle."

Kaede plucked another tape from the pile, tossing it to Daiki. He was closer to the VCR, after all. They had to go through ten angles, before Kaede dropped her feet back to the floor. "There! That... that looks..."

Daiki rewound and watched it again. That was definitely it. "Well. There's our proof."

Gorou'd certianly done something, an odd warp of cloth. Shimon's clothing was loose on his small lithe frame, so it was a tiny thing that might have been missed.

Only they were experts in forgery and Interrogation. Details like these were mother's milk to the both of them.

"Well," Kaede said leaning back again. "I'll be having a nice little talk with Gorou-san then."

Daiki nodded. "Do tell me how that goes." It really was a shame. He wasn't exactly fond of Shimon-kun--the boy set his plants on fire far too often--but he didn't deserve to be MOLESTED. And Gorou-san was quite a good operative, too, and of course he'd have to be punished for his actions.

Kaede shrugged, waved him out. "Mikoto? Go tell Gorou-san from Forgery to come down to... ah, Wing 23, Room 12, if you, oh, alright, send Iwana."

She disliked having to interrogate Intel operatives. They took one look at her and gibbered.

 

***

She was sitting in her neat little chair, ankles crossed on the desk when Gorou came in. "Take a seat, Gorou-san."

Gorou sat down, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. It wasn't working too very well, though. Well, ANYONE would be nervous. This was Akagi Kaede, the head of T&I and one of the most feared people in the entire organization. A meeting with her hardly meant anything good, especially since he wasn't even in her department.

"Why do you want to see me, Kaede-san?" he asked. It was hard, but he managed to keep his voice from quavering.

"We're going to have a little talk," She said simply.

"About what?"

She put down the file she was looking at. There were nice photos, in A4, full colour, of Gorou and Shimon. With Gorou's hand invisible, but Shimon's shirt rucked up strangely.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Gorou blinked at them. Oh, fuck. That?

Best to try and play it off. There wasn't any SOLID proof. "My spar with Shimon-kun? Why do we need to talk about that?"

"Because it is fascinating, don't you think?" she shifted, and sat straighter. "A pretty young thing, pinned under you." Her smile was mild. "Pinned and at your mercy. I know what you did. Care to tell me why, mm?"

He blinked again, frowning slightly, brow wrinkling in confusion. "What I did? Kaede-san, all I did was spar with him. As for why, I wanted to see how he fought. It was out of curiosity."

"Indeed," her smile didn't change, but the room seemed darker, all of a sudden. "Curiosity. It is a very interesting thing. Did you know that in some cultures, curiosity killed small, fuzzy cute mammals?"

A nervous little giggle escaped him before he could stop it. Hearing Kaede-san talking about cute, fuzzy things was just odd, especially with such a serious aura. "I haven't been killing any animals, Kaede-san. I just sparred with Shimon-kun. Why is that a problem?"

"Because when a spar leads to the other operative contemplating suicide, Gorou-san, it is a very big problem." She ignored his giggle. Saying things like that put them off guard.

He frowned again, looking concerned this time. "Suicide? Why? Is...Did Shimon-kun hurt himself?"

Kaede looked grim. "Contemplate was not quite the right word. When his roommate called him this morning, he recieved no answer."

Gorou's eyes went wide. "He...Oh. But...Why?" He hadn't thought Shimon would react so BADLY. All he'd done was touch the boy.

"We are currently investigating that," Kaede said smoothly. "A team has been sent over." A team numbering a grand total of one. "So. Gorou. A reason, perhaps?"

Gorou shrugged, looking utterly mystified. "I have no idea, Kaede-san."

"Oh yes you don't have any idea," Kaede looked sharply at him, looming closer. "So it has nothing to do with you pinning Shimon, and sticking your hand down his pants, then?"

Gorou leaned back just slightly as she loomed. "I did no such thing!" he protested.

"No?" She murmured. "That's what SHimon's note said."

"I don't know why he'd say that. Maybe...He could have imagined it, or something, or maybe I did touch him on accident, but I certainly wouldn't do such a thing on purpose. He'd already told me no."

"No?" Kaede flipped through the photos, staring at one of the most obvious photos. "No what?" She didn't sound like she even noticed the significance of that phrase.

"I, um..." He shifted slightly, looking the slightest bit uncomfortable. "I...propositioned him a little while ago. He said no. So there's no way I'd touch him or anything, knowing he didn't want me to."

Interesting. A motive, in a way. But then, molestors usually were opportunists, or used superior position to take advantage of their victims. "Of course you wouldn't. You wouldn't even spar with him, would you?" She waved, and the TV screen lit up, showing Gorou and Shimon start sparring. It stopped when Shimon bucked against Gorou, eyes wide with panic, the exact same frame blown up on the TV screen as the one on glossy paper in front of her.

Frowning slightly, he looked at the screen. "WHat do you mean? I did spar with him. That was all. That...I don't know. He got scared when I pinned him. Maybe...Maybe someone else hurt him or something. But I didn't do anything but fight him."

"Strange, that, since there has been no instance where he ever hadreacted this way to spars, or any other physical contact. Just you."  
"That is strange." He frowned more. "I...I don't know why he got so scared, or why he hurt himself. I wouldn't force myself on him. That's just disgusting."

"I totally agree," Kaede said, smiling sweetly. "... follow me, Gorou-san. I think we need to take a little walk down to my dungeons." Obviously mindfucking wasn't working. This called for some of the more... physical persuasion.

***

Shimon had not moved at all since Tonbo had left. Well, he had, and was apparetnly trying to kill himself with a pillow over his head. it wasn't quite working.

Tonbo settled onto the bed next to him and lifted the pillow up. "Hi. Quit moping."

Shimon flailed weakly for the pillow, before collapsing weakly. "Go 'way."

Tonbo leaned back against the wall and whacked Shimon with the pillow. "Not until you quit trying to die."

Shimon whimpered, and curled up. "Why do you care? You hate me. You wantme to die."

Tonbo sighed. "If you died, I'd have to find someone else to hate. Also, I'd get in trouble."

Shimon didn't pretend to understand that. Tonbo hated him. Tonbo wantedhim to die. Tonbo hurt him and smacked him around and beat him, and said the most disgusting things. Why would he want him to stay alive? "You can just go away. Then it's not your fault."  
"I don't think Kaede-san would see it that way." Tonbo smacked the back of his hand against Shimon's forehead. "Also, it's really annoying to have you sulking in here like your fucking life is over because some guy stuck his hand up your shirt. So snap out of it."

"But he..." Shimon flailed at him again, caught Tonbo's arm, and for some inexplicable reason, clung. It felt comfortable. "But I'm a slut!"

Tonbo smacked Shimon with his other hand. "OKay, for one thing, having someone grabbing at you doesn't mean you're a slut. He could've done the same thing if you were a virgin. It just means he's a jerk who doesn't knwo what 'no' means. And anyway, what's so bad about being a slut? It's nothing to cry over. Quit your whining."

Shimon clung, sniffling. Tonbo hitting him was normal and safe. In a very odd way. So he clung and cried on his arm. "b-but I s-shouldn't be a slut. 's bad..."

Tonbo slapped him a couple of times, half-heartedly trying to pull his arm away. Telling Shimon he wasn't a slut, fine. Getting him to stop crying and moping, fine. Being CLUNG to? Not fine. That was nearly creepy. "Didn't I just say you're not? Being groped doesn't make you a slut. Are you actually even listening to what I say?"

"But you said I was," Shimon pointed out, shifting to curl and cling to Tonbo's side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a slut!"

Tonbo gave Shimon his best 'you're a loony' look. And then actually said it, just for good measure. "You're a loony. You can't NOT MEAN to sleep around, which, by the way, you haven't done. As far as I know, anyway. Being molested doesn't make you a slut." He wasn't even going to touch the apologizing. Or the clinging. Well, actually, he was sort of touching the clinging, in that he was wriggling a hand between himself and Shimon and pushing at the other boy's stomach, trying to make him let go.

Shimon sniffled sadly, and let himself get pushed away. Of course Tonbo wouldn't want him touching him. Because he was a dirty, useless slut, who didn't deserve anything. At all.

Once he'd managed to make Shimon stop fastening onto him like some sort of stalker squid, he propped him up against the wall and lightly slapped at his cheek. "Quit your sniffling. You're not a slut and you don't have anything to mope like this about."

"But I am. You said I was," Shimon whimpered at getting slapped, curling up again into a ball. "Y-you're right a-about me. I... I'm useless and.. and... just a slut. I must have.. have..."

Tonbo was really starting to get irritated. He hated it when people didn't listen, and it was doubly annoying because it was SHIMON. Triply annoying because Shimon was giving up actually listening in favor of feeling sorry for himself, and that pissed Tonbo off because Shimon was doing it to himself. What had happened was some guy shoving his hand up Shimon's shirt, which, yeah, wasn't the nicest thing to do, but it wasn't the end of the world. Shimon was blowing it up into some sort of huge revelation about how he was a filthy, useless slut or whatever, and it was ANNOYING.

He smacked Shimon again, once on each cheek, hard enough that the sound rang through the room. "Shut up with your fucking pity-party, would you? It's getting on my nerves. Okay, so, yeah, this guy groped you. Shitty thing to do, and he's an asshole. It doesn't mean you're a slut and it's not a reason to want to die or anything. Go talk to a therapist and don't spar with anyone until you can stop thinking about it, but don't try to kill your idiot self with your damn PILLOW, and quit SOBBING on me."

Shimon blinked, stunned speechless by the force of the slaps. Then his cheeks stung and he stayed flat and limp on his futon. "... I'... I'm not...?"

He let out a small, frustrated 'argh' and smacked Shimon again. "For fuck's sake, have I been speaking a foreign language? No! You're not! Listen when I talk, would you? Asshole."

Shimon mewled at him, a small pathetic sound. "Really? I... I'm not...?" His face was bruised, and he really _hurt_ all over, but he wasn't... Tonbo said he wasn't... and Tonbo hated him, and wouldn't hesitate to throw that in his face if he thought Shimon was a slut. Right?

Tonbo rolled his eyes. "No, Shimon. I'm LYING to you. You really are a slut because someone molested you, because being sexually assaulted is totally all your fault and you chose for it to happen and, god, you're just so disgusting. In fact, so is every other person who has been molested or raped. They're the worst people in the world. I don't know how anyone STANDS them. Filthy perverted bastards." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

Shimon blinked huge eyes at him. "... you... you really think so?" He curled to Tonbo's legs. "... Thank you." He nuzzled Tonbo's hand briefly, and pulled away.

Tonbo whacked at him for the nuzzling. "Yeah. So quit moping, please?"

"...I'll think about it," Shimon said, with a shadow of his old hauteur.

"And I'll smack you until you stop thinking about and start stopping. How's that?"

"That's mean," Shimon said, curling away from him. "You hurt me, Ton-darling." 

"That's the point." So he was acting more or less normal again. Normal for Shimon, at any rate. That was good.

"There are other ways to get your point across without hurting someone," Shimon sniffed. "That's so crude." It was easy to fall back into this banter. And for some reason... it was banter. Not an actual attempt to pry and hurt, but just... banter.  
"Oh, my heart, it bleeds." Tonbo rolled his eyes and smacked Shimon again.

Shimon ducked the blow and caught his hand. With a smile that was only just a little forced, he kissed his palm.

"Eugh." Tonbo made a face and yanked his hand away.

Shimon smiled faintly, and let Tonbo pull away, so he could sprawl back onto his bed. He felt much better now.

"Are you going to go back to work now? I'm missing a lecture and I can't exactly borrow anyone's notes."

Shimon blanched slightly at the thought of going into work. And meeting Gorou. "... I don't feel well."

Tonbo smacked the side of his head. "Oh, boo-hoo. Because no one's ever had to go into work when they don't feel well."

Tonbo's hand smacked the futon, and a bit of Shimon's hair. "I don't want to go to work. Because I feel like setting Daiki-san's plant on fire, and he told me not to come in whenever I feel pyromanical urges."  
"That'll go over well. 'I'm sorry, Daiki-san, he said he wasn't going to come in because he wants to set your plants on fire'. How about you just not set the damn plants on fire?" Tonbo smacked at him some more. "I realize this may be a challenging concept for you, but you can actually resist your impulses."

Look who's talking? Shimon rolled away, and curled to Tonbo's side instead. "... Maybe I want to do something else," he suggested not quite feeling awkward. Hopefully Tonbo would leave, disgusted and so on, and Shimon could just... sleep, and pretend today and yesterday hadn't happened and then he could deal with Daiki-san's anger tomorrow.

Tonbo raised an eyebrow. "Something else. What, exactly, do you mean?" He pushed at Shimon, trying to roll him away.

RIght. Just a little bit more. He had most certainly freaked Tonbo out in the hospital... Shimon leaned up to nuzzle Tonbo's neck, voice soft and purring. "... something else. Ton-sama."

Tonbo went still for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Did he push Shimon away and leave, or play along to see how he reacted? He liked the sound of that last one. It would either freak Shimon out or lead to hot sex; either way, he won.

Tonbo sid a hand under Shimon's chin and tilted his head up, leaning down to kiss him. "Mm. Like what, exactly, Shi-chan?"

Shimon went utterly still, eyes going wide. "... T-tonbo! W-what are you d-doing?"

Tonbo attempted to look innocently bewildered, but it was hard to keep from grinning. "I thought you wanted to...do something else. That's what you said. I was only going along."

Shimon did not quite pull away, hand touching his lips. "...I..." He was blushing. Oh by the gods... "I meant... I mean... I thought you would be..."

Tonbo stroked Shimon's cheek, grin widening as he felt the soft skin heat under his fingers. "So you didn't mean it? Now I'm sad."

Shimon shivered, turning away a little. "... I.. I mean... that is..."

Tonbo leaned in, nuzzling the side of Shimon's face. "Mm?"

Shimon squeaked, very quietly. His skin crawled a little, thinking of... but this wasn't Gorou. THis was Tonbo. Who was a mean, nasty piece of work, barely qualifying as human, but he most certainly didn't touch Shimon without permission. Usually. Outside of fights. And smacking. And Tonbo was being nice right now. Sort of.

Shimon curled lower, a little, blushing hard. "... I..." He swallowed. It'd be alright. "If you want..."

Tonbo pulled away, groaning slightly. "Quit acting so pathetic." Though feeling Shimon blushing like that, hearing the hesitation in his voice, sent a thrill running through him, up his spine and low into his belly.

"I am not pathetic," Shimon said, letting him pull away, voice going small. "... I..." he ... of course Tonbo wouldn't want him. Of course he wouldn't. Who would?  
"Are you moping again? You sound like you are." Tonbo whacked his shoulder. "You were being pathetic. Though it IS pretty hot when you're all submissive like that..."

"I'm not submissive!" Shimon pulled away, but did not manage to miss the hit entirely, hissing as Tonbo struck his neck.

"You are. You go all 'Oh, if you want' and all 'Oh, Ton-sama, please take me!' and all ravishable and stuff." Tonbo slid his hand up SHimon's neck, over the side of his face, and ruffled his hair.

"I did not say that!" Shimon protested, appalled, and batted at Tonbo's hand. "Don't touch my hair."

"Aw, but it's all nice and soft." He ran his fingers through it. "You IMPLY it."

"Because I actually wash it." Shimon grabbed at Tonbo's wrists, glaring at him. "I don't imply anything."

Tonbo just grinned back at him. "Are you saying I don't wash mine? What is it with you and insisting I have no hygiene?"

Shimon sniffed at him, ignoring how his cheeks were starting to get really warm. "Because you're a filthy heathen. Who says nasty things."

"I'm really very clean. Honestly. You could come shower with me if you don't believe me," he offered, grin turning suggestive.

"No!" Shimon sounded utterly scandalised, trying to hit him. "THat is utterly perverse!"

Unfortunately, Shimon had to let go of one of his hands to hit him, and Tonbo caught his wrist. "I wasn't suggesting we have hot shower-sex, though that'd be fun. I was just saying you could watch so you can believe me."

Shimon tugged at his hand. "Yo... you pervert!" his face was probably pinker than sunrise. "I... I never thought about... S-shower-sex!"

"How am I pervert for NOT suggesting sex?" Tonbo tightened his grip slightly, holding Shimon's hand hostage. "Geez. You're such a prude."

Shimon pulled at his wrist, whimpering slightly when Tonbo didn't give. "I am not a prude," he said instead,trying to hit him with his other hand.

Tonbo grabbed Shimon's other hand and rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I bet you turn into a tomato anytime someone mentions sex. Hell, you can't even say 'fuck'."

"Why would I say that word?" Shimon tugged at his hands. "Ton-kun, let go. And I am not... I don't turn into a tomato. or anything! There are just some things decent people don't talk about in public!"

"No." Tonbo pulled as well, tugging Shimon closer. "That was just an example. You don't EVER talk about it, because you're a prude."

Shimon squeaked softly as he was all but pulled into Tonbo's lap. "I am n-not a pr-prude! Unhand me at once, Ton-kun!"  
A few more tugs had Shimon in his lap. Tonbo wrapped the fingers of one hand around both of Shimon's wrists and wrapped his other arm around Shimon's waist, hand on the small of the other boy's back. "You're a total prude."

"I am not," Shimon said, squirming a little, trying to tug his hands free. "I'm not a prude. You don't have any evidence."

Tonbo snorted. "Right. Say 'cock'."

"W-why should i?" Shimon blushed hotly and dropped his head,squirming around on Tonbo's lap. "That is utterly unreasonable and crude."

"See? You're a prude!" Tonbo grinned triumphantly.

"That is not a measure of culturedness," Shimon said, finally stopped tugging at his wrists. He bit his lip instead. "Ton-kun, let go?" He squirmed a little.

 

"Mm...No." Tonbo patted Shimon's back and pushed him closer, arching slightly against him. "You're warm."

Shimon gasped softly, pulled flush against Tonbo, and his cheeks pinked, squirming. Somehow, he'd ended up straddling Tonbo's lap, and feeling him grind up against him made him mewl. "P-please, Ton-kun..."

A little shiver went down his spine at that. "Mm. Please what, Shi?" He arched against him again, hips rolling up against Shimon's.

Shimon whimpered, soft cry escaping him at that, and he felt warm, boiling heat start in his belly. "... I... Ton-kun, p-please..." he pulled weakly at his wrists.

Tonbo pulled Shimon against him, leaning down to nuzzle his neck. "Please what?" he repeated in a low whisper.

Another soft whimper escaped him, a mewling sort of whimper, and Shimon's head fell back, almost automatically, unintentionally exposing more neck for Tonbo to nuzzle. "... I... I don't know... please..."

"You have to tell me waht you want me to do, Shi-chan. I can't read your mind." Tonbo licked at his neck, tongue flicking out to taste his skin, tracing along his jugular. Shimon's pulse pounding against his tongue made him make a soft little noise low in his throat and press up again, fingers tightening around Shimon's wrist.

That got him a soft cry from Shimon, squirming and gasping at the feel of hot wet tongue against his skin, sending electrical shocks down his spine. "... I... I d-don't... Please... I don't know..."

Tonbo grinned, chuckling slightly and kissing Shimon's throat. "You need to tell me, Shi-chan."

"...aah..." Shimon moaned, arching against him, his hands trapped between their bodies. "I... I honestly d-don't know, T-ton-darling. Y... J-just d-do.. what y-you want..."

His breath hitched for a moment, and he arched up harder against Shimon. God, it was so hot to have the other boy squirming in his lap, stuttering and moaning and acting like a virgin. "I want you to tell me what you want."

"... I..." Shimon could feel Tonbo's hardness against him, it made his breathing hitch. Strangely, when Gorou had done it, pinned and held him, it hadn't felt like this. It hadn't made his blood race and heat, and spark and some sort of need. "... I d-don't know... Please...!"

Tonbo kissed down his neck, tongue flicking out to lick at his skin. "Want me to fuck you, Shi-chan?"

SHimon gasped, keening. "... y-yes..." Because... well... it was... the word made his ears burn, but Tonbo was Tonbo, and he needed...  
Tonbo let go of Shimon's hands and fumbled with his pants, pulling them open. "How do you want it, Shi-chan? Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

Shimon clung to Tonbo's shoulders instead, mewling and shivering, squirming at the brushes of skin on skin. "I... I... just d-do it... p-please..."

Tonbo shifted a bit to slide Shimon's pants down, running his fingers up the other boy's bared thighs, over his hips. "Tell me how."

"I don't know!" Shimon's voice had gone thin, breathy and desperate, his skin tingling at Tonbo's touch, his fingertips skimming over skin. "P-please! Just... just..."

Tonbo kissed the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking. "Want to straddle my lap and ride me? Or do you want me to fuck you on your knees? How do you want it, Shi-chan?"

Shimon's skin was heated and smooth under Tonbo's mouth. Shimon shuddered at the sheer indecency of Tonbo's suggestion. "... I... I d-don't care." As long as he didn't have to say it.

Tonbo slid a hand between Shimon's legs, fingers skimming over his hard length. "Tell me, Shi-chan."

Shimon arched whiimpering, the touch inflaming him. "... I... I.... P-please... Just... w-want now." Two choices, of... riding Tonbo and knees. He... he didn't know what riding was, he'd heard about it, but never seen it, so. so... "R-ride...?"

"Mm. Alright. You got lube in here?" He kept dropping those light little touches along Shimon's cock, brushing his thumb over the head and grinning as Shimon arched.

"... 's from your room," Shimon managed, barely coherent, flailing and managing to grab the tub of lube he never did remember to put back in Tonbo's room.

"You took my lube?" Tonbo took it and slicked his fingers, closing them around Shimon's cock and pumping him. "Get my pants for me, Shi-chan."

"Keisu... aaah! -san ne-needed it..." Shimon's fingers fumbled once, twice, at Tonbo's pants, arching and squirming and bucking into Tonbo's hand.

"Ooh." Tonbo grinned, shifting and arching his hips up so Shimon could slide his pants off. "And I notice you've kept it. Just how often do you and Keisuke-san screw, anyway?"

"We do not screw," Shimon said archly. "We are intima--Ah!"

"Right, right. Whatever. How often does he stick his dick in you?" Tonbo pulled his hand away from Shimon's cock, drawing a little whine from the other boy, and slicked his fingers again. Then he shifted his hand around, to Shimon's back, and slid his fingers down to the other's ass, pressing one finger into him.

Shimon arched sharply, mewing in almost surprise. "... t-that... ngn... is not. We... he... d-doesn't just... "

After a moment, Tonbo added another finger, stretching Shimon as well as slicking him. "Just answer the question."

"A-ah..." Shimon went still, quivering and moaning. "... 's n-none of y-your business..."  
Tonbo slid his fingers in and out of Shimon slowly, pressing a third in. "Indulge my curiosity."

"I... w-why s-should I?" Shimon squirmed on his fingers, mewling and whimpering. "... m-more... Ton-darling..."

Tonbo nuzzled his cheek, kissing the side of his mouth. "Mm...If you don't, I won't fuck you."

SHimon cried out against his mouth, soft sound of desperation. "... T-ton-d-darling!" That was inhuman! "Y-you can't..." His fingers dug into Tonbo's shoulders, insistent and needy. "That is... u-unfair..."

Tonbo turned his head, kissing him full on the lips. "Tell me, then, Shi-chan. I don't need to fuck you. I can just jerk off."

Shimon gasped in horror. "you c-can't be serious!"

Tonbo grinned. "Oh, I am."

Shimon gaped at him. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Why would Tonbo not... well. do it, when he was here, willing and ready, just to be mean?

No, wait, this was TONBO. Who was mean and irrational.

"... I..." He was bout to brave it - Tonbo couldn't REALLY be that... that mean... then Tonbo removed his fingers. And started to move AWAY.

"T-three," Shimon said, whining. "D-don't leave...!"

Tonbo shifted back, fingers pressing into Shimon again, continuing to slowly stretch him. "Good boy. Only three? How long've you two been fooling around?"

Shimon writhed on his fingers. "F-few we-weeks... 's not f-foolin... w'were' busy..."

"A few weeks and you've only fucked three times? Sheesh. Should tell your pedo-lover to step it up a bit." Tonbo withdrew his fingers again, this time shifting to press his cock to Shimon's entrance and slowly pushing in.

"He's not a ped.... AH!" Shimon keened sharply. Tonbo wasn't as... slow as Keisuke was. He arched, back going taut like a bow, quivering, hands clinging to Tonbo's shoulders.

Tonbo kissed Shimon hard, tongue sliding between his lips, drinking in his taste and swallowing his cries as he thrust in. "S'totally a pedo," he murmured. "S'like twice your age."

"H-he's..." Shimon moaned into his mouth, Tonbo moving hard and fast in him, making him shiver and whimper, shuddering as Tonbo used him. Used him hard, forcefully, making his body thrum with sensation and not much else, all feeling and heat and electricity running through him.

"A pedo," Tonbo finished for him, panting against his mouth as he rocked up against Shimon. He pressed one hand to the small of Shimon's back, pressing the other boy against him, and slid the other down between their bodies, fingers wrapping around Shimon's cock and slowly pumping him. Every little noise Shimon made sent a shiver up his spine, and the way the other was shivering against him, shuddering and quivering with need and sensation, drove him to use Shimon harder, faster, thrusting deep into him and drawing out every breathy, gasping little sound he could.

"'s n-not..." Shimon arched and keened thinly, mouth openly gasping, shivers chasing themselves up his spine, and his fingers convulsed, unable to stop himself from crying out into the room, jerking hard into Tonbo's fist. 

Oh, god, Shimon made the most exquisite noises. Tonbo kissed his neck, nipping and sucking, panting and snarling out the wavew of pleasure rolling over him against Shimon's skin. He was close, oh, god, yes, he was close already, because fuck Shimon was just so TIGHT and hot and perfect, utterly perfect, a writhing bundle of heat and pleasure in his lap making the most beautiful noises. He could feel Shimon's pulse leaping beneath his lips, blood and pleasure pounding through his veins, and the thought that it was HIM making Shimon's heart beat like that, him making Shimon make those noises, was unbearably erotic.

Shimon tensed, shivering and crying out, even as he clung to Tonbo's shoulders, fingers digging into his skin, feeling muscles sliding under his hands as he arched hard, shuddering into a mindshattering harshness of the world. 

Oh, oh, Shimon was clenched so tense and tight around him, hot passage squeezing him almost painfully, and the sudden wet heat of SHimon's release spurting between them, sticky and hot and oh. Tonbo leaned up and captured SHimon's lips in a bruising, biting kiss, growling and slamming into him once, twice, and then shuddering as he came with a hiss.

Shimon slumped against Tonbo, breathing hard into his mouth, soft little sounds as Tonbo forced the kiss onto him, grounding him in the here-and-now, until he could blink and actually see again. He had to pull away to flop against Tonbo's shoulder, panting if inaudibly as he tried to catch his breath, his mind.

After a wonderfully hazy moment of pure, mindless pleasure, Tonbo wiped his semen-splattered hand on Shimon's shirt, bending his head to kiss Shimon's temple. "Oh, fuck, Shi," he breathed, going limp and mellow beneath him.

"Language, To-ton-kun," Shimon murmured, rubbing his fingers against Tonbo's shoulders. "... still don't wanna go into work." 

Tonbo made a satisfied little groaning noise. "Mm. Need to sometime. Can't just stay home all day and screw." Though that WOULD be nice...

"You can go in I'm tired. Tell Daiki-san." Shimon murred against Tonbo's neck and all but fell asleep.

"I'm tired too," Tonbo protested, but Shimon wasn't listening. Bastard. He spent a few moments just enjoying the feeling of Shimon lying against him, warm and limp and heavy in his lap, and then pushed him away to get dressed. "I'm going to come back and put toothpaste in your hair," he muttered vengefully as he groped for his cane. "Bastard."

After tellikng Daiki that Shimon wasn't going to come in, Tonbo went to Kaede-san and requested the day off to watch his roommate.

She merely gave him an inscrutable glance and gave it to him.

With halfday pay only, of course. She wasn't that much of a pushover.

 

(End chapter?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is all we had ever written! 
> 
> Who knows if it'd ever get rewritten or revised or ever finished (I doubt it'd ever get finished)


	11. Pride & Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Why Tonbo Is Laughing So Hard

Intel - Unknown  
Or: Why Tonbo Is Laughing So Hard

They were running low on fresh foods again. Tonbo, for all that he looked like a skinny twig, ate more than a horse. And Shimon himself didn't have that small an appetite either. Shimon closed the fridge, and started composing a shopping list. Having Tonbo as a roommate was exceedingly annoying, especially since the man could not see, and hence took it as an opportunity to not do any of the shopping. In fact, the man didn't even bother to try to do anything of the housework, leaving it to Shimon to have to do it every week or so if he wanted to be able to find anything.

Worse, Tonbo would insist on him putting nearly everything back into the right place at once. How on earth was he supposed to keep anything clean if he had to put things right exactly? Tonbo could apparently tell if he'd put them half a centimeter out of place, and that was exceedingly annoying. What Shimon couldn't comprehend at all was how the man could apparently navigate his room with everything strewn about the place. Shimon was fairly neat himself, but he couldn't understand why Tonbo just left everyting on the floor, and expected him to clean up after him.

He was not going to keep cleaning up after Tonbo. The man was going to have to learn how to do it for himself.

But for now, Shimon was going to do the shopping. He closed the door behind himself, and fished out his key to lock up, just as he heard someone sigh.

"I hate moving," the other one said plaintaively.

"Mm, so do I," Shimon said, slipping on his shoes and turning to face the other. "Where are you moving to...?"

He was surprised to see a rather young man, teen, actually. He looked like he'd just hit puberty; maybe thirteen, fourteen. An earnest face - now red with exertion - and brown lively eyes as he leaned against a rather wobbly tower of boxes. Not short - in fact, he was Shimon's height, and judging from his gangly build, looked like he'd be doing quite a bit more growing.

"Just 'round the corner," the boy said, smiling up him. "I guess I'm your new neighbour, Shimon-senpai; I mean, Shimon-san."

Shimon blinked. "Do I know you...?" Oh wait, the boy was quite familiar. Probably from the chuunin exams, maybe...?

"Oh, you probably won't remember," the boy said. "Tatami Iwashi. Hakka-sensei had us watch Advanced Weaponry a couple of times?" 

"Ah, yes," Shimon said, "That was more than four years ago... You have a good memory."

"A good one for names," Iwashi said, smiling shyly at Shimon. "'s why I'm apprenticing to Surveillance."

"Not recruited?" Shimon glanced to his pile of boxes. "You weren't at Orientation, I'm sure I would have remembered."

"No," Iwashi blushed faintly and glanced away for a moment. "I was on a long-term mission with my sensei, but 'pparently Hakka-sensei recommended me to Intel. Was just told; an' I just had an orientation yesterday."

"Ah." Shimon smiled. "I'd help, but I have to go shopping - I'll help out when I get back?" 

Iwashi shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine - I'll see you later...?"

"Alright," Shimon nodded and waved slightly to him. Such a nice polite boy, Shimon thought. It would have been much better having him as a roommate...

***

Shimon was in the office as usual, sulking for being put into receptionist duty. He hated it. It meant people came by so often that he couldn't very convincingly pretend to be doing work while writing poetry. On the other hand, people came by and he got to meet people. Especially pretty people. And he wasn't made to do filing, though he suspected that the main reason why he kept getting receptionist duty so often was because Daiki was annoyed with him setting his plants on fire.

Shimon tallied it up, and it looked like a 46% pro-receptionist duty, and 54% against. So he sulked as only he knew how

He leaned on one knuckle, and ran his other hand through his bangs. Slow, languid, and almost pouting. He was staring straight at the security camera, which he knew was being manned by none other than Iwashi. Cute kid, so he thought about teasing him a little, show him something during long boring watch.

Bored, his entire countenance said. Bored and sulky.

Then his fingers came to rest against the corner of his mouth, just a moment, long slender fingers just smudged with the slightest hint of ink. Then he was leaning back against his chair, tossing his hair back, so most of his face was exposed, face and neck, tilting his head further so he could stare at the ceiling and sigh.

That camera had very sensitive sound-pickup.

It was a slow day, and his shift had only just started. He could feel the soft ends of his hair trail across his neck, his collarbone, and his lips parted in another soft sigh. One of the problems of meeting people was that they had to come by first. And they weren’t. Who came into Intel anyway, and deep into the Forgery department, unless they already knew what they needed?

He let a hand drift down his side, stroking the thick material of his vest, then rubbing at the side of his pants under the table. He sighed, shifting, eyes drifting half-closed. He wanted his fan. He didn’t bring it with him to work, but he felt somewhat odd without it – he used it to express subtleties in emotion and tone, and without something in his hands, he felt… almost naked. He picked up a pen, let his fingers twirl it, feeling the long smooth bamboo between his fingers, and pressed the tip to his lips, tapping his mouth, as if deep in thought.

His index finger caught a loose thread in his trouser-seam. He bit the end of the pen, frowning slightly, and forcibly releasing his breath in a long, drawn out sigh. By the gods, he was going to have to get a new pair of pants. He hated it when things got run down, and a little thread meant the whole seam was going to come undone and then…

He shifted again, trying to feel down the seam, pick out the thread. Of course, he thought, sighing, he probably couldn’t afford another set of uniform. His budget was really tight this month – it was a waste, honestly. Maybe he could get it repaired. He shifted again, letting himself slide down just a little, so he could feel all the way down. Maybe it wouldn’t unravel.

Shimon had to spread his legs a little, to keep his balance, and as he did so, his right shin hit the corner of the drawers. Hard.

He gasped, sharply, and bit down on his lower lip, trying not to mewl at the lancing of pain. Stupid, stupid desk.

He had to lean down, further, curling his leg in, and gingerly rubbing at his shin. That hurt. He had a low pain-tolerance level, and it was hard work trying not to whine like a child whenever he got something worse than a paper cut. He inhaled, trying to keep his breathing even and then sat up again, biting his lip and smoothing down the front of his uniform.

Well. At least he didn’t look too ruffled, he thought, as he dropped the pen back onto the table, sighing. Lunch break couldn’t come fast enough.

~ * ~ * ~

Yajirobee had to bite down on his groan, shifting in his seat. Gods, that little chuunin in the Forgery reception – he’d never thought that anyone would do that sort of thing. It wasn’t exactly public, of course, but this was monitored. The other man should know that.

Hijiri Shimon was just so hot, he had to admit. Pretty and hot and making all those little sounds, shifting and flushing… Damn, why did every other department have the pretty ones? A pretty new chuunin who was shifting and flushing and crying out with tiny little sounds… Dammit.

He glanced up at the other screens, giving them a proper cursory glance before going back to studying the little file he had on Shimon.

Survelliance had to know who was who in what department at any given moment. Granted, it made them seem like a computer, but those who worked with direct survelliance video had been trained to memorise and recognise every face who worked in any one department. And Hijiri Shimon looked exactly like his photo-ID – young, androgynous and pretty. He looked up at the clock. Lunch break now. He should get to … know Shimon better. It made surveillance more efficient.

“Taking my break now, Tadao,” Yajirobee said, shoving his chair aside and stretching. “Take over my cameras, yeah?”

“Sure thing, lazy-bones,” his colleague said, tapping his fingers over the console. “Don’t take an hour, yeah? No third guy today, dammit, and I want my lunch after this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yajirobee said, giving him a lazy three-fingered salute. 

It was sort of a long way from his surveillance room to the reception desk, so Yajirobee had some time to think about what he was going to do, exactly. Ask the pretty rookie out to lunch, definitely. And maybe when they got back they could have a little fun at his desk. He looked so BORED, and obviously he didn't mind entertaining HIMSELF, so surely it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to add Yajirobee in.

He sauntered up to the reception desk and leaned on it slightly, waving lazily. "Hijiri Shimon, right? You're the new operative in Forgery, aren't you? I'm Yajirobee, from Surveillance. You looked bored, so I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go get lunch with me." He offered Shimon a winning smile.

Shimon glanced up. "Hi," he said, smiling in response. He looked bored... ? But... "Iwashi-kun is still monitoring the cameras then?"

So he'd been giving Iwashi a show, then? Well. "Iwashi-kun had to go on a mission, actually. Tadao's filling in for him."

"... on a mission? Oh." Shimon sighed, slightly disappointed, having forgotten entirely what he'd started out to do. He'd been looking forward to having lunch with him - Iwashi was good company, better than Akihiko, since the younger boy doesn't try to kiss him every other sentence.  
Yajirobee's smile took on a more suggestive edge. "I still enjoyed the show, though. So, what about lunch?"

"Show?" Shimon was starting to stand, closing the desk for lunch. "... what show? And lunch is fine."

Yajirobee raised an eyebrow. Was he trying to play dumb? "Earlier. When you were...entertaining yourself. Though you really should make sure you know who's watching before you do something like that."

Shimon blinked at him. Entertaining himself...? What was his meaning? It took nearly a whole minute for him to understand, then his whole face turned pink. "That wasn't...! I was... It wasn't what you saw! I just h-hurt myself..." He tried to protest.

"Sure you did," Yajirobee said indulgently. "Like I said, it was a nice show. You're cute." He was even cuter when he blushed, cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

"I did!" Shimon tried to insist. "I'd hurt my leg a-against the d-desk there..."  
Yajirobee patted his shoulder. "Shimon-kun, there's no need to lie to me. I was watching."

"I wasn't!" Shimon protested again, before giving up. It hadn't been a show like that! Maybe he'd intended to, in the beginning, but just to tease Iwashi because he kept blushing if Shimon did anything even slightly suggestive but... but...

He almost didn't notice how he was being steered out along the corridors towards the canteen.  
"Desk-duty's always pretty boring, so it's no wonder you'd want to have some fun." Yajirobee patted him again. "You'll get to do more exciting things when you've been here longer, though."

"I wasn't expecting it to be anyone else but Iwashi-kun," Shimon muttered weakly. "And any more exciting things in Forgery just means filing, though it's interesting to see what colours Daiki-san's plants turn when burned."

He laughed. "You wouldn't keep getting stuck with boring stuff if you didn't burn his plants. I swear, they're like his babies."

Shimon shrugged. "If he didn't react like that, I wouldn't have to, would I?" Shimon half-smiled. He wasn't stupid. He knew that his actions were landing him filing duty, but it was also a way of pointing out the childish possessiveness of his superior, a weakness that could be easily taken advantage of. Plus, it was fun.

"... what do you want to eat, Yajirobee-san?" he asked as he surveyed the canteen. "I think I'll just have a sandwich."

"I'm not really hungry, actually. I had a lot for breakfast. How about I just go get us a table?"

"alright." Shimon did not take that long, and soon he had joined Yajirobee across the small, slightly isolated table, shielded by a wall of potted plants.  
"Are you and Iwashi-kun dating?" he asked. If he'd thought he'd been giving IWASHI a show, it probably meant they were involved. Though if Shimon was just teasing, then it'd mean Yajirobee had a better chance of getting some quick action before his break was over.

"Of course not," Shimon sniffed. "Iwashi-kun's sweet, but he's still a child. He's only thirteen. We're just friends."

"Ah. What if he was older?" Well. That was certainly promising news.

"He isn't." Shimon dismissed the topic, starting to nibble on his sandwich.

"Would you prefer an older man or a younger one?" He swallowed slightly as he watched Shimon's pink little tongue flick out and lick clinging crumbs off his lips. Hopefully he'd be able to find out what kissing that pretty mouth felt like by the end of the day.

Shimon looked up at him, an eyebrow raising. "I do not know," he said finally, trying not to glance away to the side at the intent look he was being accorded. "I suppose... older persons," he stressed slightly, "since they are more likely to be experienced. But I have not dated, if you are asking for some information of that sort."

"I was just wondering." Persons. Not men. So he was bi, then, or in a good deal of denial. "You haven't? That's a little hard to believe. You're so cute."

Shimon blushed a little more and looked down at his sandwich, taking another nibble, chewing and swallowing before answering. "Thank you. You are very kind."  
Yajirobee smiled. "It's true. Anyone would say so."

Shimon ducked his head. "Thank you," he said softly. He nibbled more on his sandwich till he finished it. Some of the white sauce had escaped onto his fingers, and he sucked lightly on the tips of his fingers to clean them, since somehow he'd run out of paper napkins.

Yajirobee considered offering to get him a napkin, but then he couldn't watch Shimon sucking at his fingers and, damn, that was hot. Pretty lips parting around them, tongue lapping atr the tips... He was a cute little tease. "So, other than all the desk duty, how're you liking it here?"

"Mm?" Shimon looked up at him, pulling his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop. "Alright," he said. "Good enough, I suppose. Akihiko-san and Keisuke-san are very friendly... At least a lot of people appreciate intelligence here."

"Well, that is kind of the whole point." Keisuke? He remembered just the other day, when Keisuke'd dropped a couple of hints--after much wheedling--that he'd gotten some action. Had that been cute, pretty little Shimon? "How do you know Keisuke?"

"Indeed," Shimon nodded, checking over his hand for any more sauce. "Daiki-san introduced us, I suppose." Shimon considered. "Keisuke-san is a very nice gentleman."

"What did he do with you, exactly?"

"We had dinner," Shimon said, starting to stand. "At that really good sushi place downtown. Had some sake." 

He paused, and then blushed a little. "He kisses very nicely."

Well. So it HAD been Shimon. He WAS just Keisuke's type, pretty and darkhaired and looking younger than he was. "Does he? I wouldn't know." Which was kind of a shame, because Keisuke was pretty cute.

"Hmm." Shimon picked up his plate, placing it on a nearby collecting trays. "He does. He's nice. A perfect gentleman."

"I'm sure." One did have to be careful when one was dating barely legal children. It wouldn't do to have some boy calling rape or assault.

Shimon smiled up at him. "He is. A very nice person - I haven't had time to see him lately though. I think I might like to see him again."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to see you again." Considering Shimon had to be the first action he'd gotten in, hell, it had to be MONTHS, definitely. And Yajirobee was sure he wouldn't mind sharing his pretty little boytoy.

"I hope so," Shimon said, "He's nice. Said he liked me, even though I got drunk that night..." At least he hadn't called him a slut.

"Tonbo is wrong about him anyway."

Yajirobee looked startled for a moment. "He got you drunk?" Tonbo... Tonbo was his roommate, wasn't he? One of the AppPsy recruits. "What does Tonbo-kun say about him?"

"Says that Keisuke-san's old. And a pervert." Shimon started walking back towards his desk. "But Keisuke-san is a very nice person. He's not a pervert like Tonbo. And... well. I guess I had too much sake."

"...He is a bit old, considering that you're just sixteen." And quite a few people considered him fairly perverse, though Yajirobee figured Shimon would probably argue that point. "And here I was figuring that he could get a date without getting them drunk."

"He didn't get me drunk first," Shimon corrected him, voice soft but firm. "I went with him to the restaurant first. And the sake was nice."

"Ah. So he got you drunk so you'd go home with home, then?"

"He did not. As I said, Keisuke-san was a perfect gentleman. He helped me get home." Shimon was starting to frown slightly. "Why are you so concerned with his affairs anyway?"

Yajirobee shrugged. "He's my friend and I'm nosy."

"... He had been perfectly gentlemanly and I won't hear otherwise," Shimon said firmly.

"Of course, of course."

Shimon looked up at him, somewhat suspiciously, but Yajirobee offered him a bright smile.

"... well. I have to get back to my desk," Shimon said, and couldn't stop the sigh at the thought of having to spend another four hours there. It was so boring and annoying! "Thank you for keeping me company for a bit. It did help with the boredom."

"I'd be happy to keep you company for a little at your desk, too," Yajirobee offered.

Shimon smiled faintly at him. "That would be nice."

It wasn't that far from the canteen, to his own desk, and he hesitated a moment. There was only one chair at the desk. "... You may sit, if you wish, Yajirobee-san? I'll..." probably just stand. After all, Yajirobee would have to go back to work soon, wouldn't he?

Yajirobee looked thoughtful for a moment. "I could sit, and you could sit on my lap."

Shimon blinked at him for a moment, then blushed. "... physically... but wouldn't that be... inappropiate?" That was rather... well. He glanced to his desk - it was mostly cleared of papers anyway. He hopped on the desk, crossing his ankles and smiling shyly. "This is better, I believe."

Yajirobee sat down in the chair. "Alright." Well, he could always improvise. He leaned forwards, crossing his arms and resting them on Shimon's knees, one hand idly rubbing over the boy's thigh.

Shimon gasped softly, not quite jerking back, head falling forward a little and his hair falling into his face, shielding his now very pink cheeks. "Yajirobee-san..! This... we're in..." They were in public! Did he not care about that? Even if his hand felt very warm through the fabric of his pants, slowly carassing him.

Yajirobee grinned up at him. "You didn't mind so much with Tonbo-kun. Or earlier today."

"T-tonbo...?" Shimon flushed, eyes widening and biting his lip. "Y-you saw that...?" Oh. Gods. That was... "That was... and.." this morning...? "And I wasn't... I didn't do anything this morning..!"

"Shimon-kun, Surveillance watches everything." Yajirobee patted his hip. "Of course you weren't."

Shimon squirmed a little, having to lean back on his hands on the desk, biting his lip harder, almost bruising it, and hair brushing against his cheeks. "... I w-wasn't. R-really."

Yajirobee's fingers slid up Shimon's leg, brushing lightly over his groin before going back to rubbing his thigh. "Mmhmm."

It made him squirm, arching just a little, and his legs kicking free. "... Ya-yajirobee-s-san..."

Yajirobee looked up at him, mostly innocently, with just a hint of suggestive smirk. "Mm?"

Shimon chewed on his lip, whimpering slightly. "... i-it's... p-public..." he tried to tell him, squirming at the look in his eyes. "... S-shouldn't..."

"But, Shimon-kun, that didn't bother you before, with Tonbo-kun." Yajirobee fiddled with Shimon's zipper, grinning as he squirmed.

"That was... that was different," SHimon said, managing not to mewl. "He... " Tonbo hadn't quite forced him, but... he flushed darker at the thought of him being... watched as Tonbo had forced him to his knees and... He swallowed and tried to squirm out of the way from the teasing fingers.

Yajirobee pouted slightly, running his fingers over the front of Shimon's pants. "How'm I different?"

Shimon shivered and his hips pressed up, automatically, at the light pressure. "Y-you're..." he wasn't too sure, how to phrase it. "you're Ya-yajirob-bee-san..."  
"And that's a problem?" His fingers slid up, dipping under the waistband and stroking Shimon's skin.

Shimon gasped - the contact was almost electric, making him jerk, then start to shiver, arms buckling so he landed on his elbows. "... ngn..."  
Yajirobee slid his hand deeper into Shimon's pants, fingers brushing over the base of his cock. "Well?"

Shimon mewled, head falling back and thrusting up againsst him, all but writhing on the desk, legs parting and trying to find purchase or leverage to press up more. "... I... d-don't know...!"

He leaned forwards slightly, curling his fingers around Shimon's shaft and slowly rubbing him. "If it's such a problem, I could just leave..."

Shimon made a sound of protest, arching up hard against him. "N-no..."  
He grinned. "Alright, then." He rubbed his thumb over the head of Shimon's cock.

Shimon mewled again, softer, breathier, needier, and squirmed. Oh.. that was so... so... warm and nice and... 

Yajirobee shifted slightly, leaning forwards and tugging Shimon's pants open with his other hand. He pulled the boy's cock out and closed his mouth around the head, licking at the tip while he stroked the rest of his shaft.

Shimon dropped flat on the desk, moaning breathily now, almost inaudible, and started mewling and writhing. "Y-yajirobee....!" It was too. Too... Hot and wet and oh gods...  
Yajirobee dipped his head down lower, sucking and stroking at the exposed flesh, and purred.

At the vibration, Shimon whimpered, writhed, almost violently, little soft sounds of "a-ah!" escaping from him, his eyes falling closed and his body shivering on the desk, entirely at Yajirobee's mercy.

It was nearly impossible to verbalise the feelings, the sensations. Suddenly he was envoloped with warm wet purring heat, and he couldn't help but respond in kind, whimpering and mewling and shivering.

He swallowed Shimon down completely, nose pressing to his belly, humming around him and sliding his hand down to cup and fondle the boy's balls.

Oh. GODS. Shimon arched, mouth opening in a cry, bucking against him and gasping, fingers grasping for something, anything, as electricity rushed up his spine and down again, so that he whipped about and couldn't take it, the coursing of sensations and ... and...  
Yajirobee pulled away once Shimon fell still and quivering on the desk, swallowing and licking his lips. The boy looked so wonderfully debauched like that, pants open and cock hanging out, flushed and mussed and panting, splayed out across his desk.

It took a while for Shimon's mind to come back. His heart was beating so fast, the rush had nearly blinded him, and he was still tingling with sensation, fire that was finally banking. He had to blink several times to realise that the white was really the ceiling, not white-out.  
Yajirobee leaned forwards and nibbled at Shimon's earlobe, running fingers through his hair. "Shimon-kun," he murmured. "Remembered how to think yet?"

"... mrw?" Shimon shifted, his limbs all heavy with sated languour, and managed to turn his face into Yajirobee's, mouth parted for a kiss.  
Yajirobee kissed him obligingly, shifting to perch on the edge of the desk. He took one of Shimon's hands and pressed it between his legs, arching slightly into the contact. "Jerk me off, Shimon-kun?"

Shimon whimpered at the warm bulge between Yajirobee's legs, close against his palm. "... I..." He had to shift to sit up, and ended up leaning against Yajirobee's warm lean, strong back. "L-like this...?" He pressed a little, his palm feeling dwarfed by Yajirobee.

Yajirobee rolled his hips against Shimon's hand, moaning softly. "Mmhmm. Just...stroke and touch and rub. Like you do when you jack yourself off."

Jacking off was such a vulgar term. But Yajirobee using it was understandable... and anyway, Shimon didn't seem to be able to gear up the energy or coordination to try and explain. Instead, he shifted to switch arms, his other hand curling around Yajirobee's waist as he leaned fully against Yajirobee's back, sighing like a contented kitten. He let his hand move, closing his eyes, feeling and hearing Yajirobee's heart beat against his cheek.

Yajirobee arched and thrust into SHimon's hand, moaning at the feel of hot palm and fingers rubbing him through his pants.

Shimon hummed faintly, smiling at the feel of Yajirobee bucking, and the moaning a vibration against his body. Yajirobee's pleasure and release was under his control. That was a heady feeling. He pressed down a little firmer, massaging in a small circle.  
He bucked into the firmer contact, legs spreading and leaning back just slightly, not quite squirming. It felt so good, the warmth of Shimon's handon him through the fabric of his pants, contact nearly teasing through that barrier. His breath came in short, sharp pants as he arched up, mingling with needy moans.

Shimon pressed a little harder, and kept up the massaging, even firm pressure, starting to stroke more than circle, shifting against him.

He came soon, hips jerking up hard into Shimon's hand and soft cries spilling from his mouth.

Shimon smiled at the heady scent of musk, pulling his hand away to shift back on the desk. "... mm. That was nice. Do you have a shift to return to?"

Yajirobee nodded, looking faintly regretful. "Unfortunately. Would you consider having lunch with me another time?" He slid off the desk, untucking his shirt so it covered the stain on the front of his pants.

"Perhaps," Shimon said, his smile small and non-commital, tidying himself up and neatening his clothes. Unlike Yajirobee, he didn't stain his pants, though he looked rumpled. He slid off the desk, flicking his hair back.

"Alright. I'll ask some other time when I'm free." He was nearly back at his post before he realized that he hadn't ever found out what kissing Shimon was like. Ah, well. They'd definitely have to do it again, then.

"Whooo, hot man," Tadao said as soon as he came back in. "I want lunch breaks like that. Fucking the pretty rookie on camera 42, even. He a sex-kitten or what?"

"I think he'd object if you called him that." Yajirobee sat back down, examining the bank of screens in front of him. "You gonna make copies of that? I want one."

"Mm hmm," Tadao said, writing down in his notes. "One to you and one for Psych, and another for Archives. A copy for me because goddamn that was hot. And one for his Department Head. And didn't you hear the sound? I wonder if we could get stereo , because he sounded like a damn porn star come to life."

Yajirobee rolled his eyes. "That'll go over well. 'Please improve the sound quality on the cameras, because we want to hear hot sex better.'"

"Hey," Tadao protested. "It's for security, man! We need to know what they're saying." He tapped the screen. "Don't YOU want to know what he's saying rather than 'aah'? He might have been saying 'fuck me!' for all we know!"

"I know what he was saying. I was THERE. Remember?"

"Yeah," Tadao waved his words away as irrelevant, "but you don't have proof. The proof here is inaudible. You have no backup. And the zoom wasn't good enough to get a good focus on his mouth, so I can't lip-read. And that one time in the halls? You and... uh, who was it, Kado, were on watch - you admitted you yourself couldn't see what Tonbo was saying, and half the time your sex-kitten was blocked. How on earth are we supposed to know man? Forgotten the motto already? 'Surveillance sees, hears, knows all, and we got it on tape.' "  
"We'll have to bring this up with the Department Head. 'Excuse me, sir, but we need better sound on the cameras. And more along the halls. So we can make better porn videos, you see. I mean, uh, for security.'"

"Exactly." Tadao sat back. "See, Head-san has the BIGGEST collection of the best tapes - pity we don't have any audio in The Closet - and he'd LOVE to have some better audio. Just phrase it better and we'd be getting high quality shit in no time."

"I'll remember that." It WOULD be nice to have better audio, and not just for the porn. It was something of a security issue, really. The porn was just a nice bonus.

"You do that, boss-man. You're senior operative here." Tadao stretched. "Right, off to lunch. And maybe I'll drop by - whoa, did you see that?"

Because right at that point, Shimon had looked straight up into the camera, and smiled, a flash of wicked suggestion - or maybe it was the lighting - and then it was gone.

Yajirobee nodded. "Oh yeah. Sex-kitten indeed."

***

There was a tape waiting for Daiki on his desk, when he came back after his admittedly late lunch, with an attached note.

Daiki picked it up, examining it and then looking at the note. 'Watch this,' it said simply. "I wonder what this is..."

The handwriting on the note was Yajirobee's. A good reliable operative who wasn't likely to record embarassing moments of Daiki's operatives. However, he was the one who'd sent him a copy of Shimon on his knees for Tonbo, and he couldn't help but wonder if the man was deriving some form of delight about it.

Surveillance was a weird bunch, really. Full of voyuers and people with nearly no social life, whose main entertainment in life was to watch people and apphend hilarious dialogue to videos. Some of the best tapes Forgery had had to deal with, they'd had to consult Surveillance in order to determine how and what had been doctored, Surveillance was that good with tapes.

Well. There wasn't anything else for it, was there? The VCR was calling to him, so he just popped it in.

Yajirobee had wound it back to the exact place of... Shimon. At his desk. Daiki groaned.

At least he didn't seem to be doing anything too very outrageous. Just looking very bored. And then shifting and making little noises and... Daiki groaned again. Surely he wasn't...not RIGHT THERE.

It only seemed to get worse from there. Yajirobee came down and proceeded to shamelessly flirt with Shimon, who appeared to be about as observant as a sack of hammers. Daiki fast-forwarded until they came back from their lunch, and was quickly treated to the sight of Shimon getting a blowjob on his desk.

Daiki didn't much care for receptionist duty himself, because it was fantastically boring, but it wasn't THAT bad. There were better ways to distract oneself. Ways that didn't involve becoming a porn star.

As he was reaching forwards to stop the tape--because he really didn't care to see much more--he noticed the time the video had been taken. Shimon's lunch break had ended a few minutes before he began giving Yajirobee a handjob.

That called for reprimanding. And then filing.

Shimon didn't quite wobble down into his assigned workspace after his receptionist duty was over, and collapsed into his chair with a sigh. He did not like receptionist duty. Ever. Ever. Ever. He was going to forge someone's handwritting and assign it to Tanaka-san instead. Or something.

"Hey, Shimon-kun," Akihiko said, leaning over his desk. "... Daiki-san wants to see you. Um. Will you be free later?"

Shimon looked up. What did he do now? "... Maybe," Shimon said with a weak smile. "Though I'm more likely to go straight home after and sleep."

Daiki noticed that Shimon looked rather tired and wobbly when he came in. "Do sit down. I realize that you're close to getting off work, but I need you to go fix up room thirteen for me. It's fairly small. I'm sure you can get it done and not stay here TOO long after hours."

Shimon stared at him for one long moment. Then another. He thought he might be getting a headache from trying to reinterpret those words. "Pardon me? Why do I have to go fix up room thirteen?"

'Fixing' a room meant filing, which meant punishment, but Shimon hadn't burned any of Daiki's plants for weeks.

"Because it's messy and disorganized, obviously. Oh, and before you go... Do stop having sex when you're on duty. It's very unprofessional, and you need to keep on task."

Shimon's brain stalled. "I did not have sex on duty!" He did not have sex at all! His cheeks pinked and he had to bite his lip to keep from yelling. Or doing something utterly rude.

"Engage in sexual activities, then."

"I did not." Shimon was on slightly shakier grounds here. But he most certainly had not done anything ... sexual during his work time. At all. "I did not do anything... s-sexual. Or provocative. Or anything of the sort."

Daiki raised an eyebrow. "Really. Don't lie to me, Shimon-kun. You know it doesn't work."

"I did not do anything on duty," Shimon insisted, feeling his cheeks heat, and biting on his lip. He was so. So. Angry. "I would never be so crass as to do something like t-that!"

Daiki pointed to the TV. "Watch the video in the VCR." He continued doing his work as Shimon played the tape.

"I did not... That was... I just hurt my leg against the desk," Shimon pointed out, stopping the tape just after Yajirobee came to his desk. "Daiki-san, Don't you trust me?"

How... how could anyone mistake that for... for... whatever Yajirobee and now obviously Daiki-san had? That wasn't...! It was nothing like how Tonbo did his... well. Physical release. The man was loud, and coarse, and Shimon was fairly sure all the neighbours could hear him. What was on the video was nothing like it. It had been nothing. Just...

"Keep watching," Daiki said, not bothering to look up from his reports.

Shimon did not quite pout and fast forwarded the tape. He did blush hotly when he saw himself... well. Himself. And... he stopped it after Yajirobee left. "I... that happened during my lunch break."

"Actually, you went over your break. Look at the time."

He was only three minutes and forty-seconds over. "... You can not be serious," Shimon said, incredulous. "That was... that's barely...!"  
"I'm always serious." He looked up briefly, expression smooth and bland. "So. Please refrain from such indiscretions in the future."

"Daiki-san," Shimon inhaled, sharply, his cheeks highlighted with sharp spots of colour. "With all due respect, that is utterly unfair and thoroughly draconian. That was barely four minutes!"

"Had you been doing something other than giving another operative a handjob on your desk, I probably wouldn't be too concerned with it. It's the nature of your indiscretion more than anything else. If you're an exhibitionist, fine, but don't do it on duty."

"I was not..." Shimon swallowed down his urge to scream. Or stutter. Or self-combust. "I was nothing like indiscrete." He leaned forward, slightly, pressing his hands to Daiki's desk, palms flat. "I do not deserve to be punished for this. You had no right to go watching this anyway."

Daiki paused for a moment, then set his pen down and looked up at Shimon. "Shimon-kun, anyone who wanted to go look through the video archives could watch this. Everyone in this building is under constant surveillance. I don't need to have any special permission to watch a single one of my operatives, and even if I did, I would because you work under ME. And I am in charge of what you do and do not get punished for. You can have whatever sort of relationships you like outside of work, but when you're in here and on duty, you are representing your department, and I will not have one of my operatives giving handjobs on his desk while he's supposed to be working. It's indecent and unprofessional, and reflects badly on both you and the entire department."

Shimon blinked back, stunned somewhat. Daiki had that ability to throw him off so easily. "... Video archives?" he asked weakly. "... I wasn't..." He swallowed. That... He hadn't... "I..."

Had he not known that everything he did was recorded? More likely he hadn't thought about it. "Yes, Shimon-kun. Video archives. What did you think Surveillance does, sit around all day and chat? Everything that goes on is recorded and kept."

Shimon bit his lip. He hadn't realised that... "I... That... I didn't think that..." Did that mean... that time with Tonbo...? Oh. No. He flushed pinker and ducked his head. "Daiki-san," he said finally, "I won't do it again. Please... I just want to go home." His voice had pitched soft and low, pleading, entreating.

"And you can." Daiki gave him a pleasant little smile before going back to his work. "Once you've finished fixing up room thirteen."

Shimon looked at him, but Daiki didn't look back up. Alright. That was it. Daiki was going to regret that.

***

A week later, Daiki's laundry came back. Tie-dyed in the most remarkable of colours. The Intel uniforms showed up in beautiful pink and white designs of starbursts. While the navy blue shirts were somehow bleached to look like snow. Or bad dandruff. 

Daiki was sure Shimon was behind it. He had to admit, that really was an impressive revenge. How the boy had managed to do it, he had NO idea. But it was definitely Shimon's doing.

He managed to borrow a uniform from a friend around his size, and summoned Shimon into his office as soon as the boy arrived.

Shimon didn't even look very surprised that Daiki had arrived in a normal looking suit. But he did smirk a little. Intel uniforms were tailored to give an impression of smart, sharp edges, and that meant that everyone had their own specially tailored sets. The uniform Daiki was wearing was just out of fit.

"Shimon-kun, do you not understand that retaliating will only get you punished more?" Daiki sighed slightly. "You've been acting very childish lately. I'm disappointed."

Shimon blinked at him. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Daiki-san." He didn't need to mention that on the way to Daiki's office, he heard some of the other agents gossiping amongst themselves. Daiki NEVER wore ill-fitting uniforms. The fact that he appeared just a little rumpled meant he had borrowed a uniform. Which meant he'd had a brilliant night out.

"Shimon-kun. Remember what I said last week? Don't lie to me." It really was so very irritating to watch Shimon retaliating to every punishment for his misdeeds like a spoiled child convinced he could do no wrong. The boy was smart and talented, and he didn't USE it. Not for anything constructive, anyway.

The reports on Daiki's desk were neat, and ordered. "I'm not lying, Daiki-san, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that all of my clothing looks like it came straight out of an acid trip. You wouldn't DREAM of doing anything like that, would you?" Daiki tapped his pen against the desk for a moment. "If you don't stop acting so childishly, Shimon-kun, I'm going to have to resort to more physical punishments. Misbehaving children are spanked, aren't they?"

Shimon blinked large innocent eyes at him. "I ... pardon? I wouldn't do 'acid'. And I most certainly had nothing to do with your clothing." Shimon shifted primly, folding his hands on his lap. "I did not do anything."

It was true. He did not do anything to Daiki's clothing. His friend, a thirteen year old genin, did. He shifted again, not quite liking the idea of being spanked. But this time, Daiki had no proof. And Iruka had been perfectly willing to take the blame - he did the large doe-eyes of innocence much better than Shimon did anyway.

"If you didn't do it yourself, you were most certainly involved. You're forgetting that no one ELSE would do anything like that." He sighed again. "If you must get such petty revenge, don't do it immediately after you're punished. At least TRY not to make it completely obvious."

Shimon blinked guilessly at him. "... I will bear your advice in mind, Daiki-san," he said demurely. "Is that all?"

"Yes. Oh, and you'll need to go down to the dungeons later. You'll be helping Kaede-san organize interrogation transcripts."

Shimon swallowed, and paled slightly. "...Daiki-san? Why would I be doing... T&I work?"

"I figured you'd appreciate a change of scenery. And Kaede-san was looking for assistance, and of course I recommended you. You've done lovely work up here." He smiled pleasantly at Shimon.

Mostly because he kept getting filing as a punishment. Shimon bit back his immediate retort. "Of course, Daiki-san. Thank you for your consideration."

***

Two weeks later, Daiki's underwear were all laminated.

That was slightly better than the uniform thing. People couldn't see his underwear, so he had the option of simply going without if something--someone, rather--had rendered it all but unwearable.

Daiki was looking vaguely smug when he summoned Shimon to his office. THIS time, he had PROOF. "Shimon-kun, I do applaud your restraint in waiting so long. Good job. So you ARE listening when I talk to you. Pity you haven't listened to all the times I've told you to stop."

Shimon blinked at him, innocence personified. "Daiki-san?"

Daiki absently tapped his fingers on the handle of the riding crop laid out on his desk. He'd borrowed it from Kaede last night. After an hour of boiling and convincing himself that she had such a thing for interrogation purposes only, he deemed it fit to touch. Last time he'd said that he would resort to physical punishment if it happened again, and he certainly couldn't go back on his word.

"I believe I told you you'd be spanked if you did it again. How does fifteen blows sound?"

Shimon blinked at him. "Daiki-san?" He couldn't help the slight rise in pitch at the end of his sentence. He wasn't... His eyes went straight to the riding crop, and he went two shades paler, his throat going dry. "Daiki-san, you... I...!"

Daiki looked mildly up at him. "Yes? I suppose you have an objection. What is it?"

"You can't...!" Shimon's knuckles were white as they gripped his knees. "I... Why... I didn't do anything!"

Daiki smiled pleasantly at him. "I thought you might say that. Do go watch the video in the VCR for me."

Shimon's eyes were wide, and his hands were just a hair away from shaking, as he pressed the play button. He unfortunately couldn't stop the gasp at the sight of himself, in his apartment, plasticizing fabric items.

"Surveillance doesn't JUST monitor this building, you know," Daiki pointed out. "Really, Shimon-kun, I know you're young, but that's no reason to act like a child. Any more objections?"

"...I..." Shimon swallowed, and almost backed half a step away from his Head of Department. "... Daiki-san, I... I'm very sorry, please d-don't...!"  
"I can't very well go back on my word, now can I? Obviously, nothing else has worked." Daiki gestured him over and picked up the riding crop. "Bend over, Shimon-kun."

"N-no..." Shimon looked like he was about to faint, before he forcibly steeled himself. "No, Daiki-san, that is far and above beyond what can be expected as punishment. That is.. humiliating!"  
"Which is exactly the point. Punishments aren't meant to be pleasant."

Shimon pivoted as Daiki walked towards him. "Daiki-san!"

Daiki wrapped his arm around Shimon's shoulders and pulled the reluctant boy over to his desk, then planted his hand in the middle of Shimon's back and bent him over it. "Fifteen blows, Shimon-kun. Count for me, will you?"

Shimon went still a moment, a cold chill shivering down his back, and then he bucked against Daiki's too strong, too big hand, squirming free. "No!" He managed to roll free of the desk, papers fluttering around him, and bolted for the door.  
Daiki regarded the mess for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, and then lunged after Shimon. He caught the back of the boy's shirt and yanked him back, pressing him up against the wall. "Shimon-kun, please don't run. It's twenty now."

"Please, Daiki-san!" Shimon pleaded, squirming and trying to get free. "Please d-don't, please... " He could, if he just twisted like that, slip down and under Daiki's hold and get out the door and run.

It was so embarassing, to have to chase one of his own operatives across Intel. By the time Daiki caught up with Shimon, it was up to forty blows and he was seriously considering taking off his belt and doing it with the buckle. On bare skin.

He hooked his arm around Shimon's and, before the boy could get away, teleported them both back to his offie. Then he locked the door. "Shimon-kun, why do you insist on making this harder on yourself?"

Shimon struggled, doing everything to get free short of kicking Daiki in the manhood. Even he wasn't that suicidal. "L-let go, Dai-Daiki-san, please, please... I'm sorry, d-don't ...!"

It was near impossible to hit someone when they were squirming around like a sackful of kittens. After a moment of thought, Daiki pulled Shimon's belt off and tied his hands behind his back, then bent him over the desk again. This time, he didn't bother to do it gently, instead nearly slamming Shimon against the wood. "Forty, Shimon-kun. Count."

Shimon gasped, all his air slammed out of him, and in shock, and then he started crying. Soft, little pitiful sobs of fright and terror.  
Daiki brought the riding crop down on Shimon's backside with a muffled thwack. "Count, Shimon-kun. They don't start counting until you do."

He was hit five times before Shimon managed to cry out 'One!' in a broken, pathetic whimper, crying in earnest. It wasn't so much the pain - though that hurt as well - but the fact that he couldn't get away, and he was being treated like a child, and being punished, and it wasn't fair. It magnified the pain into almost agony, lancing up his body in fresh lashes of flame as he squirmed and cried.

He'd just gotten to forty when someone knocked on the door. Daiki straightened up and walked over to the door, pulling the key out of his pocket and unlocking it. "Hello Keisuke-san. What do you need?"

"Aya-san needs--" Keisuke stopped when he saw Shimon bent over the desk, hands tied behind his back, shuddering and crying. His eyes slid from that sight to the riding crop in Daiki's hand, and for a moment his brain shut down.

Daiki had...been...SPANKING Shimon.

Keisuke pushed images of a considerably less clothed Shimon bent over his bed, squirming rather than shuddering and moaning rather than crying out of his head. "Aya-san needs to see you," he managed, keeping his eyes fixed on a point just to the left of Daiki's.

"Alright." Daiki smoothed down his slightly rumpled uniform and strode past Keisuke, sliding the riding crop into his belt loop. "Thank you. Shimon-kun, get back to work."

Keisuke waited until Daiki was gone before he began composing a lovely tune against his skin with the rubber band around his wrist. Work, he reminded himself, was not an appropriate place to be having such thoughts. Especially not if they were about the cute, barely legal little boy sobbing on Daiki's desk. And ESPECIALLY if they were about SPANKING said cute boy. Really, that last part made them fairly inappropriate for any sort of setting.

"...Sh-Shimon-kun? Are you...um...alright?"

If he could be any more humiliated than being spanked hard like a child, someone seeing him get punished like this was the absolute worst way to go. He sniffed, and tried to stand. Only he couldn't. He couldn't even move without his whole rear end suddenly feel like it was going up in flames and agony. He fell flat against the desk instead, sobbing and biting his lip. "... f-fi-ine..." he managed. "'m f-fine..."

Keisuke went over to him and untied his hands, laying his belt on the desk and patting his shoulder. "You sure?"

Shimon pulled his hands free, and managed to brace himself against the desk, wobbling, and fished for a hankerchief to wipe his face off. ".. Y-yeah..." He sniffed again. "... I... I'm s-sorry you had t-to see that, Ke-keisuke-san."

Keisuke patted him again. "It's fine. What did you DO?"

"... G-got caught..." Shimon leaned against Keisuke's shoulder, breathing through his mouth and sniffling. "... S-surveillance..." he shifted, and glanced up at him. "You... did you give Daiki-san the tape?"

Keisuke shook his head. "No. He was probably going through the archives or something. What did you get caught doing?" He doubted Daiki would do that over a burnt plant.

"... l-laminated his underwear," Shimon murmured into Keisuke's chest. Keisuke was strong and big and was most certainly not hurting him. Or scolding him. He was patting him and making him feel safe and comforted, if only a little.

Keisuke stared, and hastily bit his lip before he could snigger. "You...No wonder he was so mad. Why'd you do THAT?"

"Because he m-made me g-go to the dungeons," Shimon said, picking idly at Keisuke's buttons like a child. "It's scary down there," he blinked up, wide-eyed, face tear-streaked.

Keisuke patted Shimon's hair, smoothing it down. "And why did he do that?"

"'cause he d-din't like how his laundry was d-done." Shimon leaned in against him, resting against his shoulder. "... 's not fair. I didnt' do anything..."

"Shimon-kun, it really kind of sounds like you did." Keisuke sounded slightly apologetic. He didn't really want to be scolding Shimon when he was so upset, but... "Did you have anything to do with his laundry?"

Shimon shook his head vigorously. "I d-din't. D-don't you believe me, Keisuke-san?" Shimon looked up at him, eyes large, wide and wet, pleading for understanding and comfort, his mouth pink and bruised from biting to prevent too loud cries from escaping. And his cheeks were tear-stained. He looked very much worse for the wear, and much put upon.

Keisuke bit his lip, forcing back the urge to kiss Shimon. "I don't think he'd punish you if you didn't, Shimon-kun." He patted Shimon's shoulder. "And pretty much everyone knows you mess with Daiki-san."

"But I didn't," Shimon said, voice soft and magligned. "I didn't, Keisuke-san, b-believe me..." He sniffed and pressed closer.

Keisuke rubbed his back. "Don't...Alright. Alright. You didn't do it. Still, don't you think laminating his underwear was a bit extreme?"

"He d-din't have to wear it," Shimon sniffed, but managed a watery smile. "You're a perfect gentleman, Keisuke-san," Shimon whispered curling his arms around Keisuke's waist. "A v-very g-good person."

"Thank you." Keisuke hugged Shimon, patting his back. "Um...You really should probably get back to work. I don't want to get you in trouble."

Shimon nodded and tilted his face up, licked his lips with just the tip of his tongue. "... Alright." he reached up, tentatively, to hook one arm around Keisuke's neck. "... I..."

Keisuke stared down at him, breath catching in his throat. "Y-yeah?" God, he looked so gorgeous like that, lips bruised and bitten and still just a little teary and vulnerable and...god.

The points of Shimon's cheeks blushed pinker - perhaps from the crying, or something else - and he leaned up, on tip-toes, and kissed Keisuke's cheek, just at the corner of the man's mouth, before wincing and falling back a little.

Keisuke's arms were around Shimon's waist as soon as he fell back, supporting him. After a moment, he leaned down and kissed Shimon's cheek, patting his hip. "Alright. You need to get back to work." He made no move to let go, though.

Shimon nodded, and leaned his forehead against Keisuke's shoulder. "... I s-should."

Keisuke sighed and reluctantly let go. "Want to go out for dinner later?"

Shimon nodded. "Please." He wanted to be held and assured he won't be hurt again. Or something like that. Keisuke-san always made him feel safe and cuddled, in a way.

"Alright." He smiled and patted Shimon one more time, then left.

Shimon couldn't sit comfortably at his desk, and he was more than eager to leave when his shift was over. 

Keisuke met Shimon outside after work. "Ah, Shimon-kun, I just remembered a little while ago that my nephew's coming back from a mission today, and I was planning to eat at home with him... Would you mind coming home with me too terribly much?"

"I do not mind at all," Shimon said, smiling slightly. A mission? How sweet, a little twelve year old genin, he supposed, on his first C-class.  
"Alright. It'll be a little before he gets back." Which meant that he could have some alone-time with his cute little Shimon.

Keisuke took him home and curled up on the couch with him, petting his hair.

Shimon curled into his lap, leaning against him, almost lying on his side, because his rear still hurt. Keisuke's patting was very nice and soothing. He purred slightly.

"How was your day? Other than being spanked, of course." Keisuke rubbed Shimon's back.

"Horrible," Shimon said, softly, shifting and cuddling to Keisuke's waist. "Couldn't sit properly. Otherwise... alright."

Keisuke slid his hand down and gently patted Shimon's abused bottom. "I'm sorry."

Shimon mewled and wriggled. "It hurts," he pouted.

Keisuke rubbed carefully. "Make sure you don't get Daiki-san mad at you again."

He sniffed and nodded. "No."

There was a knock on the door and Keisuke pulled away from Shimon, settling the boy against the arm of the couch. While it was all perfectly legal, he'd managed to keep his preferences from his family thus far and really wouldn't like it ruined. He didn't think Hayate would be too happy about finding out about his uncle's fondness for cute little boys.

He started to get up to open the door, when it swung open. Standing there in the doorway was Hayate, vest torn and hanging off his shoulders, shirt nearly black with blood. His face was pale as the wan moon up in the sky, eyes wide and ringed with dark and shocked.

"Hayate! What happened?" Keisuke rushed forwards, taking Hayate by the shoulders and pulling him inside. The boy was shaking, trembling like a leaf in a windstorm. "Haya?"

"Mission," Hayate answered, voice shaking. He sounded numb, though, numb and shocked. "More guards than we thought. Got in a fight. I..."

Hayate looked so shellshocked, and he was so unsteady on his feet. Keisuke all but pushed him down on the couch, kneeling down and pulling his vest off. "You need to go to the hospital. Where'd they get you?" God, so much blood. The smell was so thick he could nearly taste it, an iron reek in the back of his throat. How was Hayate still upright, after bleeding so much?

Keisuke stripped off Hayate's shirt, cringing just a bit atthe way the fabric squelched wetly between his fingers. The back was more or less clean; he bunched it up and used that to wipe the blood off of Hayate's torso so he could see where the wound was.

It was a ragged hole in his chest, roughly fist-sized. The bone was splintered, skin and muscle pulped and torn, and the wound itself ringed with sticky, half-dried blood. Never mind upright, how the hell was Hayate still ALIVE?

"Shimon-kun, would you call the hospital for me? I don't want to move him anymore." Whatever miracle of fate was keeping Hayate alive couldn't keep on for much longer. Dear god, it looked like it went all the way THROUGH him.

"Of course...!" Shimon was sliding off the couch, and making his way to the telephone. Gods, so much blood. "Please," he said into the speaker, "Right now, yes, Hayate... Gekkou Hayate? Yes, Gekkou Hayate, please come now, he's in a very bad way."

The medics came very fast. By then, Shimon had ended up fetching buckets of water, cloth, bandages, for Hayate, who looked just younger than Shimon. Which class of mission had THAT sort of missions? His mouth was dry but at least he wasn't keeling over in a faint. He was pragmatic, about blood and gore, at least.

"Gekkou-san?" asked a medic. "Holy shit."

Hayate very much did not want to be conscious right then. He hurt, and he was scared, and there was some part of him that was just hoping this was all a bad dream and he'd wake up soon enough and be fine. But he couldn't just let himself pass out; he had to answer questions.

"Was on a mission," he told them. "B class. Assassination. There were more guards than we thought, and we got in a fight. One of them hit me. I think with a jutsu or something, but I couldn't really tell. I'd say electric, but it's not burned or anything." Just a big gaping hole, right where he was SURE his heart was. Had been. Was supposed to be.

"... Right," said the taller of the two medics. "We'll uh." He glanced to his colleague. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Yuki, You... uh. You know... gurney. Gekkou-san? You're the relative, right? Father? Please step back a little, so we might see what can be done."

The tall medic nodded, and stabbed at a scroll, summoning a gurney. "Right. And... fluids. Lots of it. IV drip and..."

Keisuke stepped away. "Uncle, actually." Hopefully they could fix Hayate up. He'd made it this far, right? And his target had been a couple hours away from the village, so if he hadn't died on the trek back through the woods with his chest all torn open, he should be alright just going to the hospital. It would be fine. It had to be.

He followed them to the hospital, settling into one of the waiting room chairs and trying not to panic or think about all the things that could go wrong. It had LOOKED like a direct hit to the heart, but with that much damage, he wouldnt' have HAD a heart. And since he was still moving and breathing and talking, it couldn't be. He was misjudging the position because he was worried, or...something.

"He'll be alright," Shimon said, curling to Keisuke's side, watching him look anxious. "He will be." Though he seriously doubted it - but then, he wasn't all THAT good at anatomy.

Keisuke wrapped an arm around Shimon's waist and pulled him close, stroking his hair. "Yeah. He'll be fine."

***

"He HAS no HEART," Yuki said, not exactly yelling, because one didn't yell in the operating room. "He went under alright, like the DEAD. How am I supposed to keep track of his pulse rate when he has NONE?"

"But he's still BREATHING," Aki pointed out. "He has to have a heart. Work on closing up that hole before he bleeds out, would you?"

"You're fucking nuts," he said, but threaded his needle and stabbed it through the skin. Some people said surgery and stitching was an art. Sure it was, but when you had a gaping hole about the size of a small watermelon, you kinda forget about art. "I'll do a chakra surge here - my thread's not coarse enough to hold the hole together... holy. Shit. Did you see that?"

Aki looked over. "See what? What'd you do?"

"Just..." Yuki sent a spark of green chakra to the edges of the wound, and miraculously, the flesh started growing back, a nice happy pink.

Aki stared. "...How is...but...that's...what?"

"Impossible?" Yuki said. "Oh hey, if I do this..." He pressed his fingers - gloved, of course, he didn't want to catch anything - into the tattered edges of the aorta, and it started to grow up, layers of tissue. "Wow. Lookee that. It's all perfect! Endo, mesothelium, all growing back!"

"How are you DOING that?"

"Dunno!" Yuki grinned like a maniac. He wasn't even directing the chakra - but he could FEEL the body just take his healing chakra and mold it into... whatever it was! "Here, you try! Ooh, look! Heart muscle!"

She reached over, sending sparks of chakra into the wound, watching as it healed. "...Wow. This is really weird."

"Isn't it?" Yuki waved his needle around. "Absolutely fucking fantastic! I don't even need to DO anything... how about just normal chakra?" His palm glowed with his normal blue-white chakra, and woah, he could see the layers of flesh just start to form under his hand, folding over each other, tiny little blood vessels threading through. "What do you think would happen if I chopped off his foot? Would it grow back? Oh... the heart's coming back, but not really his lungs. Do something about it would ya?"

Aki smacked his shoulder before setting about pumping chakra into his lungs. "Don't chop bits off of him to see if they grow back."

"But it'd be so COOL. And he won't die from a missing toe. And it'd be like, good practice... oh oh, you know what? we could like, try him out on stuff, and see how far different levels of poisons would go. What the symptoms are."

"Get his permission before you kill him. Or his guardian's, since he's underage."

"you are utterly no fun."


End file.
